By Candlelight
by solroros
Summary: Hermione is the only survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts, the last great clash between the Light and Dark. Dumbledore, months prior, had given her an out, "just in case" something went wrong. Knowing this is her only chance to save the world from certain destruction and death, she lights the candle. SB/HG JP/LE
1. Silence and Wishes

Chapter 1: Silence and Wishes

The grounds of Hogwarts were silent and still as ash drifted down from the sky. Bodies of friends and foes, Light and Dark, littered the once-pristine green fields and the halls of learning beyond. Flashes of light, curses and hexes, slashed through the air as the last living member of each army dueled in the ruins of the Great Hall. The enchantment on the ceiling remained above even as the supporting walls crumbled, the illusion of a blood red sky blending with reality as the last battle wheezed its death rattle.

"_Stupefy!_" Hermione cried, red light shooting from her wand and connecting with the ragged black form of Bellatrix Lestrange. The older witch flew through the air, slamming her into the last standing wall. Her body disappeared beneath a pile of rubble, which settled with a last echo of thunder.

Hermione gasped for breath, turning quickly in anticipation of another attack. None came. She whirled again. Surely, at any moment, another Death Eater would appear to attack. They were like cockroaches, never dying completely.

After five minutes of waiting and listening, Hermione lowered her wand. For the first time in five years, since she had arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and joined the forces of the Light, she was victorious... and utterly alone.

In the center of the Hall lay the bodies of her best friend, her heart's brother, and his most bitter enemy. The recoil from Harry's _Expelliarmus_ and Voldemort's _Avada Kedavra_ had killed both wizards instantaneously. Hermione wondered if that meant Harry's life after the war would have been merely survival instead of true life – Trelawney's prediction had proved correct so far, so she was inclined to believe that Harry would never have been truly happy. How does a sixteen-year-old move on and find new purpose when his identity had been defined by a successful murder?

Hermione chose to make certain of her solitude by searching the ruins, calling out for her comrades as she went. She counted nine motionless redheads, one dead werewolf, and a shock of pink hair near him. Luna's blonde tangled with the bloody remains of Neville's brunette. Sirius's tattooed fingers hung limply from beneath a large piece of fallen ceiling. Classmates, friends, allies intermixed evenly with the bodies of those who wished them, and the world at large, harm.

_What was the point of all this?_

Soldier first, student second, Hermione had been fighting this war since she was informed of her magical abilities at the tender age of eleven. In the first year alone she helped Harry Potter and his friend Ron Weasley both discover the location of the Sorcerer's Stone and save an innocent man, Sirius Black, from a fate worse than death. At the age of twelve, she was able to brew a more than passable Polyjuice Potion, had helped destroy the diary containing Voldemort's sixteen-year-old self, and begun the extracurricular study that led to her position as Chief Researcher for the Order of the Phoenix.

In their third year, when Remus Lupin came to the school to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Voldemort had lured Harry and his friends to the Department of Mysteries. On that adventure, Sirius had (thankfully) escaped a deathless journey through the Veil. He was a great help to Harry during the (ill-advised) Tri-Wizard Tournament, a sort of mentor to Ron in the "we both know how it feels to be in the shadow of a Potter" way, and an almost older-brother figure to Hermione. On the nights when she stayed up late, due to nightmares or research, he was always there for her with a cup of cocoa and a joke. They had all grown so fond of each other...

Hermione dashed the tears away from her dusty face and hurried through the ruins of the school, calling out as her voice grew ever-more hoarse. The more emotional part of her mind, the one that urged her to cry and hold on to the corpses of her friends for as long as possible, cried out that this wasn't fair. This summer she should have been receiving her O.W.L. results, not combing a battlefield for her last hope. Viciously, she slammed those thoughts into a corner of her mind until she was ready to scold herself for having them in the first place.

After the death of Cedric Diggory and Voldemort's "coming out" (as Sirius always liked to call it), Hermione and her friends had left school to join the Order full-time. While Molly Weasley especially had protested at first, Dumbledore admitted that the need for capable soldiers was too great. Like the other members, the friends had received identifying tattoos somewhere on their bodies. Harry's had been red phoenix wings spread across his shoulders, Ron the same except across his chest. Hermione had been more subtle, opting for a small phoenix rising from the ashes just above her right hipbone. The tattoos burned when a meeting was called. She tried not to think about how this made them so similar to Death Eaters, with their Dark Marks and fear of disobedience.

Under the tutelage of Alastor Moody, the so-called Golden Trio had accelerated their fighting abilities far beyond the expectations of fourteen-year-old dropouts. They could draw their wands in a blur and fire off spells quicker than thought. Hell, Hermione didn't even need her wand or words to do some magic. She knew more about the Dark Arts than she ever thought she would be inclined to learn – as Chief Researcher, her motto had been "know thy enemy". After hours of research and teaching some of the Order herself, the group was much more prepared than they would have been otherwise. Some spells were so Dark and ancient that no counter-curse had ever been found. In the years since leaving Hogwarts, Hermione had devised many counterspells after long evenings in the Grimmauld Place library with Remus and Tonks.

A smile flitted over her bloodied face, remembering the frantic camraderie the three had shared in those late hours. The unusual couple had been like a second family to Hermione, more of a sibling relationship than a parent-child one, after the death of her parents in her second year. An enterprising Death Eater, realizing the threat that Hermione posed to the Dark Lord's future plans, had taken it upon himself to organize a raid on her home. Hermione had been safe at headquarters, but her parents were not so lucky.

She had killed the Death Eater, Macnair, herself.

It took her an hour to circle the castle, to confirm that no one else remained alive. Satisfied and heartbroken, Hermione returned to the Great Hall to carry out Dumbledore's last request. She slipped her wand into its thigh holster, strapped over her black skinny jeans, and withdrew the device from the pocket of her black leather motorcycle jacket. Everyone in the Order had long since taken to dressing in dark colors when they could help it – made one less of a target during battle.

Cradling the black candle in her hands, Hermione slowly called on the fire within her soul to light the flame. With all her might, she concentrated on one thought: preventing the macabre scene. She would do anything, anything at all, to prevent what had happened here today. In a flash of golden light, Hermione vanished from the present and the grounds of Hogwarts were silent as the grave they had become.

At sixteen, war and death were all she had ever known. And now she knew where that led: to an empty school and a burning sky. Perhaps it was time to give something else a shot.

* * *

Lily Evans was fed up. Really, she had had it up to here with James Potter and his snotty friends. Yes, fine, she wasn't actually that fond of Severus anymore (he did hang out with the worst, most racist pigs she'd ever had the misfortune to meet), but that didn't give them the right to behave like the arrogant toerags they were.

_Maybe Mum's right_, she thought, idly picking at her dinner plate. _Maybe we are just all idiots at sixteen._

The Welcome Feast would have been a joyous occasion for the newest Gryffindor prefect, if it hadn't been spoiled by James asking her out every five minutes and the jealous glares from the other girls in her year that his attentions drew. If she found another frog in her bed tonight, so help her Merlin she was going to hex the pigtails right off Honoria Watson's head. The stupid blonde thought James was _hers_ and shouldn't be flirting with anyone else.

Lily rather viciously speared a piece of chicken. _Stupid Potter_.

To her right, Marlene McKinnon elbowed her gently. "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned for her friend. Marlene came from a very old, influential pureblood family, but that hadn't stopped her from befriending the Muggle-born considered by many to be the brightest witch in their year. Lily sighed expressively and took out her feelings on an unsuspecting dollop of mashed potatoes.

"Just wish Potter would leave me alone. That something would happen to distract him, or something."

A dirty and bloody girl, dressed all in black, appeared in a flash of golden light not two seconds later, right between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. She appeared to have chunks of rock in her bushy brown hair. The strange girl whirled to face the Head Table, freezing when she saw every member of the staff had drawn their wands on her. The stranger raised her hands in the universal gesture of surrender, while every student in the Hall burned with excitement and curiosity.

Marlene leaned over and whispered to Lily, "Looks like you got your wish."


	2. Introductions

**A/N: The Elysian Candle is based on the Bablyon Candle from Neil Gaiman's "Stardust". The phrase "travel by candlelight" is one of my favorites and inspired the device in this fic. If you've never read Gaiman, do yourself a favor and go read him now!**

**Also see if you can spot the Buffy quote in the middle.**

**And for those of you who haven't guessed by now, things are gonna be AU like whoa.**

* * *

Hermione had been hoping for a more, ahem, understated point of departure than the middle of the Welcome Feast. She certainly had, at least a little, hoped to not be held at wandpoint so soon after surviving a battle. The adrenaline was wearing off, though the shock of grief kept her standing (if not steady). After all, it's not every day you lose everyone you've ever known.

"Who are you?" a slightly younger Headmaster Dumbledore inquired. Hermione kept her hands in the air as she responded. Thankfully they were empty - the candle had burned up in the transition, so that was one less thing she had to explain.

"When I was young, I was told that help would always be given at Hogwarts to those who had need of it." She winced – did her voice really sound that croaky? "Well, I have need of it, Headmaster. Will you grant me asylum?"

Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up at her evasive response, and Professor Slughorn was sputtering so much Hermione feared he would pass out. Yes, it wasn't the most enlightening of responses, but she needed to coordinate with Dumbledore on how this should play out. Was she keeping her name? Did she know anyone in this time? Where… or rather when was she, anyway?

She quickly glanced around. Judging by the hairstyles, she'd have to say she was about twenty years in the past.

"Far be it from me to contradict myself," Dumbledore said, a slight chuckle in his voice. Hermione kept herself from rolling her eyes. The Headmaster loved his little jokes.

"Headmaster, I must object!" several teachers said at once. Professor McGonagall glanced around at the others who had spoken with her – teachers Hermione didn't recognize – before voicing her own concerns.

"It is impossible to simply appear, either by apparition or other means, on the grounds of this castle-"

"I'm sorry, Professor, but that's simply not true," Hermione said politely. Or as politely as one can when interrupting someone you deeply respect. "As you can see, I've done it. If you would kindly lower your wands, I have a letter for the Headmaster explaining how I came to be here."

Curiosity shone in Dumbledore's eyes and sounded in the whispers from the students around her. Dumbledore lowered his wand and beckoned Hermione forward. The trip to the Head Table had never felt so long before, but usually she was running to greet Hagrid or something. She stifled a sigh – another fallen friend, killed by the giants he had been sent to recruit. Also, she was pretty sure there was some sort of cut on the back of her leg, as she was most definitely hobbling.

_Splendid_, she thought. _I've been up for at least thirty-six hours straight, probably have more cuts on me than a Christmas turkey, and now I have to convince one of the most powerful wizards alive that I deserve his help. Must be Tuesday._

Hermione reached into her jacket as she neared the Head Table, causing some of the staff to reach for their wands again. They relaxed when she withdrew the letter, sealed with Dumbledore's personal signet: a phoenix entwined with the letter "d". She handed the hefty missive to Dumbledore – his future self had sent quite the long message to his past self. Knowing that they would need to change the future anyway, she guessed that the older Headmaster had opted to lay out the history of the war and his reasoning for sending Hermione to... whenever she was.

_Dumbledore summoned her to meet him in the Grimmauld Place kitchen at midnight, alone. Hermione, used to spending time one on one with the brilliant man, arrived exactly on time as the elder wizard Floo'd down the chimney. They greeted each other and sat at the battered wooden table, listening for a few moments to the winter wind howling beyond the Order headquarters._

_"Miss Granger, I have a request of you, and I do not wish for you to become disheartened when you hear it." Hermione nodded, used to waiting for Dumbledore to get to the point by now. The man buzzed around his meaning like a bee with a flower. He took a deep breath and leaned back, steepling his fingers in front of his face._

_"There is a very good chance that we will lose everything in the final battle. The prophecy concerning Harry and Tom is unlike any other in recorded history, and we cannot be certain that the outcome will be pleasant. I wish to give the world another chance if the worst should come to pass." _

_Hermione nodded again – why put all your eggs in one basket? (She'd had a lot of fun explaining that idiom to Arthur a few nights ago.)_

_"Thanks to your research into the Dark Arts, we were able to recover an ancient device long thought lost. Do you know what an Elysian Candle is?"_

_The answer popped into her head, itself shaded with candlelight from long nights in the library. "An Elysian Candle is an ancient Dark device, used primarily during the Inquisition and other times of severe Muggle oppression, to transport a witch or wizard backwards in time in order to correct an event or series of events. Most often the user sought to prevent their impending death or imprisonment. Banned by the Ministry in the seventeenth century, along with other time-manipulating devices due to their unknown ramifications, the technology to produce the Elysian Candle was lost to time."_

_Hermione blinked, the true meaning of her little recitation hitting her. "You know how to make one thanks to research I did? I barely remember touching on it."_

_Dumbledore chuckled. "You mentioned it in passing about three months ago, and I have been working on it ever since. Now, it's not to say that I don't have faith in Harry, or the prophecy, but I like to ensure a happy ending whenever I can. Especially after this war, it has all been too much for this old man's heart."_

_Some days, when the cynicism of war got to her, Hermione wondered if he had a heart. He was a brilliant leader and man, but there were days… _

_From his pocket, Dumbledore withdrew a small black candle and two large, sealed, letters. The candle smelled faintly of sandalwood and time, though she couldn't exactly say how she knew that. Time was one of those background sense and sensations, moving along the body with only a whisper in its wake. Hermione's witch-senses, her intuition, felt the power radiating off the small piece of wax._

_"You want me to travel back in time and fix things if they go wrong?" Dumbledore nodded, handing her the candle. Hermione's hand shook as she received the device, vibrating with the power radiating from it. She quickly set it down on the table and examined the letters – the seal, the weight, the way the writing didn't bleed through the parchment. One was addressed to 'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore', the other simply to 'Hermione'._

_"How far back will I need to go? How do I control the candle? What are the letters for? When-"_

_Dumbledore held up a hand to halt her questions. "I do not know when you will end up, however I can tell you that, like most Dark objects, the Elysian candle feeds on emotion. If you concentrate on your heart's desire, the candle will take you to the most opportune moment for making that wish a reality. The letters are as you see them addressed. I ask that you open yours away from prying eyes, but hand mine to me as soon as you can. Understood?"_

_Hermione had no choice but to nod. Dumbledore was the general of their army, considered by many to be their only hope in winning this war. His wishes were orders, and orders must be followed._

_Without further discussion, she rose from the table and took the candle. As she reached the door, a thought occurred to her. She turned back and met the carefully emotionless eyes of Albus Dumbledore._

_"How do you know I'll survive the war if the others don't?" she asked. "How do you expect me to live when all my friends, my family, are dead?" Dumbledore smiled sadly._

_"Because you must, Hermione. If the rest of us do not survive this war, you must live on for us."_

Hermione had not read her letter yet, though she had carried it in the inner pocket of her trusty leather jacket for months after that conversation. An abbreviated and tense Christmas, complete with a Death Eater attack, had followed a short while after her meeting with Dumbledore. In the run-up to the battle at summer's beginning, Hermione had spent many sleepless nights researching for the Order in public and researching the Candle in secret. To be quite frank, the letter had slipped her mind.

Thanks to her research, she knew she had one shot to use the Candle. There was no going back if one made a mistake, hence the need for a strong will and wish when lighting the Candle.

It was a good thing that she had nothing to miss.

* * *

Sirius, along with the rest of the school, watched with baited breath as Dumbledore read the strange girl's letter. The Headmaster's eyebrows moved minutely, giving nothing away, though his mouth tightened a bit as he flipped through the pages. Sirius was not terribly familiar with the Headmaster, aside from the odd reprimand when the Marauders pushed things too far, but he could tell that the man was intrigued.

The sixth-year's eyes were mostly drawn to the girl all in black standing in front of the Head Table. Her shoulders were tense and even from here he could see she was shaking. The whispers traveling over from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff said she had blood and dust on her face. The whole school could see the cut on the back of her left thigh, which was sluggishly bleeding down to her combat boots. Who was this girl? Why were her pants so (gloriously) tight? And why was no one helping her?

He whispered the last to James, who shrugged. As ever, Potter was watching Evans to see her reaction. Sirius thought Lily was nice enough, but didn't understand his friend's obsession. There was puppy love and there was just being creepy, as he had told James a number of times in private, and James was getting towards the creepy end of things. He wished his friend would just relax - it wasn't _that_ hard to talk to the bird you liked.

The longer Dumbledore read his letter, the more unsteady the girl seemed to become. The teachers were too busy being wary to notice the girl was injured, and everyone else was caught up in their own gossip. It felt oddly like the Black family dinners, only without the screaming matches. Thoughts of his insane family alone were enough to get his blood boiling. Sirius was just about to jump to his feet (and possibly, in his imaginative mind, sweep the injured girl off hers) when Dumbledore looked up from his letter. Even from afar, Sirius could read the strange mix of pity and gratitude on the old man's face. What was that about?

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said in a quiet voice. The whole school went silent, straining to hear the Headmaster's words. "I cannot begin to thank you enough. I assume you are a Gryffindor?" The girl – _Miss Granger_ – nodded. "Then let us have someone from your House escort you to the Hospital Wing."

Dumbledore's eyes swept over the Gryffindor table and landed on Sirius, who started to rise from his seat even before the headmaster summoned him. "Mr. Black, would you kindly escort Miss Granger to the Hospital Wing?"

"It would be an honor, Headmaster," Sirius said with all his usual charm. Several girls nearby tittered, but he ignored them. There were grumbles from the other boys in his house as Sirius quickly made his way to the Head Table, where Miss Granger was about to keel over from exhaustion. He smiled at her and was surprised when she smiled back, though the expression did not reach her lovely brown eyes.

_Oh Circe, did I really just think that her eyes were 'lovely' in my own head? _

"Sirius Black at your service," he said, reverting to pureblood mannerisms out of habit. Miss Granger's smile widened.

"Oh well, then I know I'm saved," she said with unwonted sarcasm. Sirius tried to cover his confusion – maybe the girl was just tired – as he slung one of her too-thin arms over his shoulder.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Probably," she responded, leaning on him as they made their way down the length of the hall towards the doors. "Make that probably for a short while."

He moved his arm, which had been pressing hers into his shoulders, and looped it around her waist. Even beneath the leather of her jacket, he could feel how curvy she really was. Where was she from? What was her name? When would be an appropriate time to ask?

Sirius was often forward with the girls he met – Muggles, witches, everything in between he flirted (and sometimes did more) with alike. But this girl, this battered girl, did not look like someone who would take kindly to his normal methods.

Then again, there was no harm in trying.

"Don't worry, I'll carry you if need be," he responded with what was assuredly a charming grin. Miss Granger rolled her eyes.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Mr. Black. I barely know you. A girl can't let herself be carried around by strange men, it'll ruin her reputation."

_Is she flirting with me? She's so deadpan it's hard to tell._

"You could tell me your name," he said as they reached the doors. She raised an eyebrow. "In the interest of getting to know each other better, of course. Just in case. Wouldn't want to be too forward, in an emergency situation, or, um, whatever."

_Merlin's beard, what's wrong with me?_ Sirius never tripped over his words around women, not even when he was eleven.

Miss Granger laughed. "No, we wouldn't want that."

She stumbled over nothing as they neared the main stairs, her feet finally giving way to what Sirius thought must be shock.

"My name's Hermione," she said as she fainted.


	3. While You Were Sleeping

**A/N: So this one's a bit different, stylistically. Hermione needs her nap, and our characters need time to think. Love the reviews so far, thanks for the encouragement all!**

**Day 1**

The whole of Hogwarts was buzzing with gossip about the mysterious girl who appeared during the Welcome Feast. No one (except Sirius and Dumbledore) knew her first name, so the students had taken to referring to her as 'Granger' overnight. Wild theories abounded as to who she was and why she appeared, but the craziest speculation centered on the 'how'.

"She's a clever ghost," one third-year Hufflepuff claimed.

_How was Black able to hold her up then?_

"She's the Darkest witch to ever grace the earth," decried a wise-looking Ravenclaw seventh-year.

_Highly doubtful, Dumbledore would have imprisoned her on the spot were that true._

"She's actually the spirit of Hogwarts itself!"

_Oh for the love of Merlin!_

"She's-"

"Shut it before I take ten points from Hufflepuff," Lily snapped at the giggling Hufflepuffs behind her. "I'm trying to pay attention to the lesson." The girls made faces at her, but quieted themselves. Lily returned her attention to Professor McGonagall, who was outlining the Transfiguration syllabus for the coming school year. Granted, it was a little boring, but it was better than gossiping about some poor girl.

Lily had no theories herself on the mysterious stranger, she hadn't even really gotten a good look at her. All she wanted to do was focus on her schoolwork and get through the day without someone calling her a Mudblood for the five millionth time. And maybe avoid Potter while she was at it. Keeping her nose out of this business was the easiest way to accomplish both those goals.

Yes, she would have nothing to do with this Miss Granger whenever she appeared.

* * *

Wherever Hermione was, it was nice. Really nice. Nicer than anywhere she'd been in a long time. Books stacked neatly on gleaming wooden bookshelves as far as the eye could see, none of them to do with the Dark Arts, and there was a cup of hot cocoa on the small square table beside a comfortable-looking red leather couch.

_Am I dead?_

Faintly, voices drifted through the stacks of books, voices that sounded concerned but not entirely familiar.

_Probably not. _

There was something she was supposed to do, something she was supposed to accomplish. With a shrug, she picked up the nearest book (a collection of Keats poems, one of her favorite Muggle authors) and sat down on the couch. It was just as comfortable as it looked. Opening the book, she lost herself in the words.

* * *

**Day 2**

Sirius was worried. He'd borrowed the Marauders' Map from James to keep an eye on the Hospital Wing, and by extension Hermione. She was stationary and had been for the last day or so, ever since he carried her there himself. Thank goodness for his long hours of training as a Beater, otherwise he wouldn't have made it to the third floor (even if she was rather light). Why was the Hospital Wing so bloody far from the rest of the school anyway? That was just poor planning.

Dumbledore had gone in and out a few times, and Madam Pomfrey's little ink self bustled around the infirmary, but Hermione hadn't moved at all.

"Are you all right, Pads?" James asked as they worked on their potion. "You seem… tense."

Sirius glanced up from the map. He contemplated, for perhaps the fiftieth time, telling James about his conversation with Hermione. (Such a strange name she had. Then again, he was named after a star. Who was he to judge?) Normally he shared everything with James – they were closer than brothers, closer than blood. Certainly closer than he was to Regulus.

_So why don't I want to tell him?_

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Sirius said. "We don't have anything going during the break, do we?"

James shook his head. "I was thinking about asking Evans out again," he said with a hopeful grin.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Love your optimism, Prongs, but I think a requirement for a date is actually having the date-ee _like_ you."

"There's a fine line between love and hate, my friend," James said, dramatically tossing his dandelion roots into their potion. With an almighty crack, the liquid overflowed. Students hopped up on their stools to escape the path of the sickly green brew while Slughorn hurried over to help.

"You're supposed to _gently_ deposit the roots, not hurl them in like a Quaffle!" Evans called over the din. James smiled, happy to have his heart's desire's attention.

"Fine line," Sirius grumbled under his breath. "More like a great wall."

They finished clearing the ruined potion just as the bell tolled for class change. "I'll catch up with you later, mate," Sirius said. He did not wait for James's response as he made his way to the (obtusely out of the way) Hospital Wing.

* * *

Hermione was getting a bit annoyed. She'd read her way through many of her favorite Muggle books and some of the wizarding ones (mostly textbooks, she'd yet to make her way through much of wizarding literature). Large chunks of text were missing from the books, whole sections that she theorized she must have skipped over at some point or another. Either she was in her own head, or she was in purgatory.

"If I had to guess, I'd say you were in your own head," a familiar voice said from behind the couch. Hermione whirled around.

"Harry!" she cried, leaping over the back of the couch to embrace her friend. "What are you doing here? Where is 'here' anyway?"

"The answer to both those questions is 'I'm not sure'," he said sheepishly, hugging Hermione back. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Walking with Sirius, a really really young Sirius," she said, leading him over to the couch. "I think he was flirting with me." Harry laughed at that.

"Of course he was. So you went back in time? The Candle worked?"

"Yeah. Wait, did you know about that?" Harry shook his head.

"The _real _Harry didn't know, but I suspect that I'm your subconscious projecting a familiar image to talk you through your trauma."

Hermione blinked. "Yeah, you're definitely not Harry."

"Doesn't mean we can't talk."

* * *

"Please, I just want to see her, make sure she's all right," Sirius said. Madam Pomfrey was blocking the entrance to the Hospital Wing, and had been for the last five minutes. She needed to let him through or this was going to be a complete waste of a break.

"You and every other student in this school. The poor girl is still unconscious. No one can see her except the Headmaster."

_Well bugger that. Time to be clever._

"What if I had a real medical emergency?" Sirius gave her his best puppy dog eyes, knowing how effective those were to get McKinnon to do his homework, or Watson to give him the last scone.

Apparently they were less effective on thirty-something mediwitches.

"Don't try that with me, Mr. Black. Several other students have tried that method already and received detentions. You don't really need another one of those, do you?"

Sirius sighed heavily. Moony would be angry with him if he missed the next full moon, which was tonight. "No, I suppose not. Can you at least let me know when she wakes up?"

"I make no promises, now shoo!" Pomfrey flapped her hands at him before slamming the door.

He turned away, dejected, right into a veritable swarm of goggle-eyed third-years. "What are you gawping at?" he asked with a glare. They scattered.

* * *

**Day 3**

"So you think I can be happy here?" Hermione asked her assembled family and friends. They were all there – her parents, Harry, Ron, Remus, Tonks, Ginny, Sirius (older Sirius), Kingsley… everyone she had liked or loved, everyone she had left dead on a future battlefield.

"I think you can do a great deal of good," Remus said. "You can save us, and yourself."

That had Hermione worried. What if she changed the future so much that she was never born? How was this really going to work logistically? What if they ended up fighting a worse war anyway. She buried her head in her hands, mind swimming with all the questions she was sure that Dumbledore, even in his great wisdom, had glossed over in his desperation to vanquish Voldemort once and for all.

"You'll have to keep fighting for a little while, bookworm," her father said. "But you won't underestimate them, no one will. Not with you there to help them."

"I'm so tired of fighting, Dad," she said. "I'm just so tired of life."

Ginny Weasley, her best girlfriend, knelt down before her and took her hand. "There is more to life than war," Ginny said. "We didn't get a chance to find that out. Now you can, and we can live in a world with different battles. More civilized ones that require cunning instead of strength, the kind that hurt but don't kill."

"Can you do that for us, Hermione? Can you work for a world where we have a choice?" Ron asked.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'll miss you all terribly, but I think I can try."

"It's okay to be sad, dear," her mother said. "That means you loved us very much. But it's all right to be happy as well. Don't forget that."

Harry took her hand. "I love you, sister. Now open your eyes."


	4. Reconnoiter

Chapter 4: Reconnoiter

A/N: I hope that my rather realistic portrait of Dumbledore doesn't offend anyone. He's not a bad guy, per se, but he is proof that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Don't believe me? Ask Arianna Dumbledore.

Ten points to the house of your choice if you can spot the Doctor Who reference.

UPDATE 10/11: Rewritten because continuity. More chapters forthcoming, thanks for being so patient everyone.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy, heir to the fabulous wealth of his ancient pureblood family, was running extremely late. He pulled on his mask and tried to ignore the ever-increasing burning sensation in his arm. As a quickly-rising (though still junior) Death Eater, tardiness was a luxury he could not afford.

He apparated to the pre-arranged meeting place, some godforsaken manor in the Welsh hills, and took his place immediately. The majority of his comrades had arrived before him, though he noted a few gaps in the circle. Like them, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head. It was an insult to stand before the Dark Lord, like an equal, unless he gave you leave.

Sometimes it boiled his Malfoy blood to bow down to a halfblood like the Dark Lord, but he kept those feelings of resentment buried far beneath careful Occlumens shields. Voldemort was a skilled Legilimens, but Lucius was a slippery-minded man. It was worth the resentment to know that he was on the side of those who wished to return wizards to their rightful place in the world – above non-magical peoples, exalted, revered. Not hiding behind magic walls and spells of invisibility.

"You're late, Lucius," the Dark Lord said quietly.

"My most sincere apologies, my Lord," Lucius said, not looking up. He chose not to explain that he had been at St. Mungo's with Narcissa, consoling her on her latest miscarriage (number two since their marriage three years ago) when the Dark Mark summoned him.

"Crucio!" Voldemort cried, and Lucius waited for the pain to wrench his limbs. It did not come, though the screams of someone other unfortunate wizard reached his ears.

"Fortunately for you, Macnair was even later," the Dark Lord said. Bellatrix chuckled and ignored the glare Lucius sent in her direction. Though useful for her place in Voldemort's good graces, and feared for her enormous magical talent, Lucius could not stand his sister-in-law.

They waited in silence for more Death Eaters to appear. An eternity passed before Voldemort cleared his throat and sighed.

"Well, then, let us begin. Who can guess why I have called you here tonight?"

Lucius smirked. The Dark Lord might have been refused the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher some years ago by that Muggle-loving fool of a Headmaster, but his penchant for leading questions remained.

"Anyone? Come now, after a few years in my service surely you have all become more attuned to the Dark forces than this." Voldemort slowly paced the inside of the circle, grinning. "Really? No one? Not even a guess?" His chuckles sent crackles of fear down Lucius's spine.

_We need him. Don't let the fear overtake you. We need him._

"On September the first, there was a surge of Dark magic from the direction of Hogwarts the likes of which I have never felt in my life. Either _Dumbledore_," he spat the name, "has taken on a new hobby, or a powerful new ally was stretching their muscles."

The circle was silent. A new Dark wizard? (_Or witch_, Lucius amended in his own mind. Narcissa was biddable enough, but she did like to remind her husband that she exceeded his talents in Charms and Transfiguration.) The unspoken question was: more powerful than Voldemort?

"Now, who would like to volunteer to find out which scenario the Fates have graced us with?" Voldemort's eyes swept over the circle, carefully evaluating the options. Most of the Death Eaters came from old Slytherin families, and none were young enough to still be students or foolhardy enough to remain under the thumb of Dumbledore by becoming a Hogwarts professor. A few had relatives still at the school, but Lucius did not consider many of them trustworthy. There was no place for _children_ in the coming war.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix's mad voice carried across the circle. "I might have the ideal young man."

"Oh?" Voldemort's tone was carefully disinterested.

"My young cousin, Regulus, is a fourth-year in Slytherin, and quite attuned to the Dark for one so young. It is possible he felt something. I could speak to him for you?"

Voldemort inclined his head. "That is all for now. The next time I summon all of you, please do me the great courtesy of being on time." His eyes bored into Lucius's. "Or else."

* * *

Hermione opened her eyes to the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing ceiling. She had spend far too much time becoming acquainted with that particular set of masonry in her years as a student at Hogwarts, and it took her mind a few moments to catch up with her eyes.

The battle.

Harry and Ron, dead on a field.

The Candle.

She swore as she sat up, wincing at the soreness in her muscles.

"I agree with the sentiment, if not the expression of it," Dumbledore said kindly from his seat next to her bed. "Jelly baby?" He offered the bag to her.

Hermione shook her head and waited for the headmaster to continue. He looked much younger than the version she was familiar with, though his lengthy beard and even longer hair were both dazzling white. There were a few less lines on his face, and an unabated twinkle in his eyes. Surely Voldemort was currently a threat, otherwise he wouldn't have been so shaken by the letter.

"I must first reiterate my thanks, Miss Granger," he said after a moment of silence. "I, naturally, verified the veracity of the document which you presented to me three nights ago. Your service to the Order and the wizarding world is beyond commendable."

"Three nights ago?" Hermione asked, cutting through the waffle. She didn't want thanks, she wanted her friends back.

"Yes, apparently between whatever happened to you before this and the transition by Candle left you rather drained. I imagine you are quite hungry." He waved his wand and a house-elf appeared with food for Hermione.

Oh, right. He didn't know about the battle.

"Would you like to know what happened to me before I appeared?" she asked as she scooped up some scrambled eggs.

"If you feel ready to tell me. If not, then perhaps we can discuss your immediate future. As I'm sure you know, the nature of the Candle does not permit you to travel forward to the time from whence you came. I'm certain we will have ample opportunity for you to share your story with me, perhaps once the shock of whatever you have experienced has worn off."

"As you wish," Hermione said, more than happy to shove those memories to the side for the moment. She was not unfamiliar with the grieving process. After her parents were murdered by the Death Eaters and she, rather cathartically, took her vengeance on Macnair, she had thrown herself into the minutia of schoolwork and keeping her friends alive. Staying busy was important to the Hermione-doesn't-have-a-breakdown plan.

"How goes the war effort then?" she asked. Dumbledore looked nonplussed. "Voldemort. I assume you've heard of him, and he must be doing awful things already if you thanked me the way that you have. What can I do to help?"

A sort of pity entered Dumbledore's eyes. "Haven't you done enough, Miss Granger?" Hermione shook her head.

"I came back here to prevent the terrible things I've seen. The sooner I can start on that, the better."

Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. "Unfortunately, you are also underage. Whatever spells counteracted the Trace on you are no longer in effect. You will have to remain at Hogwarts until you are of age, and I then I would hope that you can make your own decision as to how you will live your life."

"I'm of age now," she said. "Thanks to the use of a time-turner during my third year-"

"Until the wizarding world _acknowledges officially_ that you are of age-"

"Fine, in eighteen days then," she said, cutting the headmaster off. "My magic is already at full maturity, my core stabilized almost a year ago. I fail to see how keeping me in school while people are dying is a good idea!"

She was breathing heavily now, her adrenaline so easily activated after years of fighting. Dumbledore regarded her with pity.

"Are you so eager to die for the cause, Miss Granger? Haven't you done enough?"

Hermione glared at the headmaster for a minute, but soft memories rushed to the forefront of her mind to soothe her. An older version of this man asking her to live on for all of them, the phantom voices of her friends begging her to let go of her grief and anger.

_Fine. For now._

Her acceptance must have been written on her face. Dumbledore explained that, once Hermione had cleaned up and changed clothes, McGonagall would be escorting her to Diagon Alley to retrieve all the supplies she would need for the coming school year. Hermione protested that she had no money with which to purchase clothes or books, but Dumbledore waved her concerns away.

"My family was wealthy and I've had little use for money in all my years. It's the least I can do, knowing the service you have provided for the world." Hermione was suspicious but she let it slide. While Dumbledore was a great man, she had learned long ago that all of his seeming generosity came at a price. Yes, he believed the best in people, but that did not stop him from using them as he saw fit. She had seen where being used by Dumbledore led, and though she had gone along with his back-up plan she would be damned if she let herself be manipulated by him again.

The headmaster asked what classes she had been taking, which led to her outlining the reasons for her departure from the school at the end of her third year. She was not sure if that information had been provided in the letter – judging by the headmaster's avid attention, it had not. He stroked his beard in thought.

"I supposed we could have you sit an impromptu exam, to make sure that you're ready to take sixth-year classes. What do you have an interest in?"

"All subjects except Muggle Studies or Divination," Hermione responded.

"Why the lack of interest in Muggle Studies?"

"I'm Muggle-Born. I know most of it already. Given that I'm from the future," here she chuckled a little, "I'm afraid I'd have an unfair advantage."

They agreed she would be tested by all the teachers in History of Magic, Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.

"I think it's safe to say that you are well beyond a sixth-year's abilities in Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore said with an understated smile. "But we will put you with your year for that anyway."

Hermione felt slightly better that her future was thus settled, at least part of it. The rest, she mused as Dumbledore left and she made her way to the showers, would have to work itself out.


	5. Undetectable Extension Charms

**A/N: So, I did some fact-checking. This story kicks off in 1975, which was the Marauders' and Lily's sixth year, and funnily enough September 1 was on a Monday that year. Yay for timelines working out on their own!**

**A/N2: The current author would like to apologize for her past self's incorrect assessment, both of HP history and math in general. Thanks to Kallanit who pointed out that this story should take place in 1976. The author wishes it to be known that her past self has been sacked, reprimanded, educated, then re-hired. Just assume Hermione fell asleep Wednesday night and woke up Friday morning. Corrections entered below.**

**Don't judge Lily too harshly. Fifteen isn't the easiest age (as I'm sure some of my readers can agree) and she's been hurt enough by the Mudblood tripe for her empathy to take a beating. Hermione's not just there to save lives, after all...**

* * *

On Friday afternoon, Lily knocked on Professor McGonagall's door for the third time. She had a question about her Transfiguration essay that really couldn't wait, and so far her Head of House had been elusive to say the least.

To be honest, most of the teachers had seemed preoccupied since the events of the Welcome Feast. Professor Flitwick had burst into tears during Charms yesterday, and Professor Slughorn had changed around his sixth-year's curriculum to include more healing potions. Lily really had no idea what had gotten into all of them, but she felt an odd sort of foreboding that she could not bring herself to share with her dorm mates... especially since she could predict their reactions perfectly.

Marlene: "You're just overwhelmed, Lils."

Hestia: "I can't believe Potter is so over the moon about someone so paranoid."

Bridget O'Flaherty: -unintelligible Irish slang-

Amelia Bones: "How utterly ridiculous, Evans."

Yep, Lily was all too familiar with her dorm-mates personalities and proclivities. Six years of living in close quarters will do that. Marlene was her best friend out of all of them, but even then there was some distance between them due to the difference in their upbringings. Some pureblood mannerisms and assumptions were utterly foreign to Lily, and occasionally Lily felt alone in her class of pure- and half-blood classmates.

Lily turned away from the office in a huff, adjusting the two heavy satchels on her shoulders, just as McGonagall and that Granger girl turned a corner.

"Professor!" Lily said, unnecessarily loud. McGonagall, deep in conversation with the strange girl, startled, covering her heart with her hand.

"No need to shout, Miss Evans. You gave me a fright," McGonagall said sternly. Lily grimaced, happy that the professor hadn't taken any points from Gryffindor. They were already behind the other houses thanks to some prank Black had pulled up near the Hospital Wing yesterday.

"Sorry, Professor, I just have a very important question about the essay you set about Conjuring and I've been waiting for such a long time-"

"Yes, yes, of course," McGonagall said, cutting her off. "Follow me into my office, I actually have a favor to ask you."

Lily followed the Deputy Headmistress into her office, determinedly not looking at Granger. She had sworn to herself that she would have nothing to do with the girl, not with so much riding on this year.

While Lily asked her questions, Granger kept herself in the background. Lily's eyes drifted of their own volition to where the girl was perusing McGonagall's private library. She was wearing that beat-up leather jacket and another pair of equally tight pants, these ones dark blue instead of black, and combat boots that appeared to be made out of dragonhide.

_Why is she dressed like she's ready to kick someone's arse at the first available opportunity?_

Lily snapped her attention back to McGonagall as the older witch addressed a finer point of Lily's drafted essay. She was not going to take an interest! Even if the girl did seem a little too tense for her own good...

_No, not this bleeding heart tripe again_, said the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Severus. _You were kind to Potter first year and now he's made your life a living hell with his attentions. You can't let your kindness turn your life upside down again!_

When their conversation was concluded, McGonagall shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Well, Lily wouldn't say uncomfortably. Nothing had ruffled the professor's feathers in all of Lily's experience.

"As for the favor, I was hoping you could escort Miss Granger to the Gryffindor dorms and introduce her to the other girls. She will be joining your year, and I hope you recognize your duty as a prefect to help her in any way possible."

Lily opened and closed her mouth a few times. Her plans for a carefree, studious year were going up in flames before her.

_Maybe she won't need my help. She appeared in the Great Hall in the middle of the Welcome Feast, for Godric's sake. She's probably miles ahead of the rest of the class._

Lily looked over to Granger and found herself confronted with the saddest pair of brown eyes she'd ever seen.

_Oh, bugger_.

"Of course, Professor." Lily left her chair hesitantly and crossed the room to Granger.

"Lily Evans," she said, offering her hand. Granger took a deep breath (Lily didn't know why) and shook Lily's hand.

"Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Lily wracked her brain for something to say as she left McGonagall's office with Hermione.

"Are you familiar with Hogwarts or do I need to give you the tour?" Lily asked as they made their way to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione smiled at her tentatively, an expression that did not quite reach her eyes.

"No, I would say that I'm fairly familiar with the castle," Hermione said. Then her eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. "I mean, Min- Professor McGonagall gave me a bit of a tour before we went to Diagon Alley this morning. To get my school supplies and such. Can't wear this all year." She gestured to her ensemble, and Lily nodded in agreement. The redheaded witch wanted to ask where Hermione had found those pants, but refrained. She was going to fulfill the letter of this request, if not the spirit.

Though she had to admit she was curious...

"What classes will you be taking?" Lily asked, slightly out of breath, as they climbed the stairs.

"I expect everything but Muggle Studies and Divination," Hermione said as she took the steps two at a time, beating Lily to the top. "Do you need me to carry something?"

"No, I'm fine," Lily said, despite feeling the sweat break out on her brow a bit. "Why not Muggle Studies?" she asked in a cautious voice.

"I'm Muggle-born," Hermione said simply. "I could probably teach the class."

Lily gave an uncertain smile as they went down the hall toward the portrait of the Fat Lady, trying not to jump for joy inwardly. She might yet end up not liking this girl, though it would be nice to have another Muggle-born in her house to talk to. Judging by Hermione's clothes, the girl was a bit of a rebel and a rough-houser. Lily recalled the rubble and blood that had covered the girl when she appeared in the Great Hall.

Glancing over at the girl walking beside her, who was seemingly lost in her own thoughts, Lily had to wonder how much of her first impression was accurate.

When they reached the Fat Lady, Lily explained how the portraits worked as Hermione listened patiently, then gave the password – _libertas leo_ – before leading the way to the common room. Nerves danced in Lily's stomach as she took in the familiar red and gold room, with its squashy chairs and dark wood trim. That feeling of being slightly left out, set apart, always assaulted her when she entered the communal space. Perhaps because the room was a reminder of how she _should_ be feeling.

Having magic was supposed to make her feel less like a freak, not more.

Naturally, every conversation died when Hermione was spotted. The witch's brown eyes darted around the room (thankfully, the Marauders were off causing mayhem somewhere), taking everything in.

"Hi, I'm Hermione," she said in a hesitant voice. "Guess I'll be joining all of you."

Lily took one look at the girl's slightly terrified face and grabbed her hand on instinct.

"Listen up, no one will pester Hermione with questions or they will have points deducted from the House!" Lily stated, wondering inwardly at her own reversal of opinion of Hermione. _Damn my tender heart_. There were several mutters, but the other Gryffindors at least made an attempt to look like they were returning to their work .

* * *

Hermione's heart was pounding as they ascended the familiar steps to the Gryffindor girls' dormitories. She had sensed during Lily's meeting that the mother of her best friend didn't want anything to do with her, and wondered at her defense in the common room not minutes ago.

An image came to mind unbidden of Harry attacking a mountain troll in the girls' lavatory. He hadn't liked her much at first, either. Maybe it was hereditary.

Lily let go of her hand as she led her to the room at the top of the Tower, the same room Hermione and her dorm-mates would/had occupied in her own time. A bed had been added right next to the window that looked off to the Forest in the north, though the space in front of it was bare.

"I forgot to ask, do you have a trunk or something?" Lily said, a little stiffly.

"Or something," Hermione said quietly. She withdrew her beaded bag from her pocket, smiling as she remembered the circumstances surrounding its creation. During the Tri-Wizard Tournament, Bill Weasley had met and fallen in love with Fleur Delacour, the competitor from Beauxbatons. They were married the summer that Hermione and the boys joined the order, when Dumbledore had spoken to them about the Horcruxes.

Initially the small purple bag had been intended for emergencies only, but over time Hermione had realized her life was in a constant state of emergency. She had taken to keeping it on her at all times, spelled to open only for her, Harry or Ron.

Withdrawing the bag from an inner pocket of her jacket, she undid the knots holding it closed. In the silken depths lay the physical evidence that her whole life to this point had not been a fever-dream. The light of the room fell on the photo album containing pictures from her first year at Hogwarts, stacked on top of the pictures Harry had of his parents and a similar one of Ron's. She'd promised the boys she would hold on to them, just in case.

It would be a long time before she could bring herself to open those particular books.

"What's that?" Lily asked, curiosity replacing the stiffness in her voice.

"Or something," Hermione repeated with a sad smile. She set the bag on the floor and with a wave of her wand her old trunk emerged, along with the bags of supplies that she had purchased that day in Diagon Alley.

Dumbledore had chosen to share Hermione's story with McGonagall and a few of the other teachers, mainly the heads of the other Hogwarts houses, while Hermione was in her pseudo-coma. So most of their time was spent with McGonagall fussing over Hermione, even going so far as to take her to Fortescue's for a sundae, and chatting about that year's Transfiguration curriculum.

"_I'm sure that you'll be more than up to the work," McGonagall had declared before taking a prim bite of her lemon sherbert._

"_I certainly hope so, I haven't had formal schooling in over two years. I'm afraid there will be gaps in my education that prevent me from keeping up with the rest of the class."_

_McGonagall gave her a skeptical look. "If half the things Albus shared with me about you are true, I'm sure that any gaps will be covered in no time."_

"Wow," Lily said as everything settled into place. "How did you get all of that in there?"

"Undetectable Extension Charm," Hermione said as she dug her new robes out from the Madam Malkin's bag. "It's dead useful for purses. I can show you how to cast it, if you'd like."

Lily smiled. "I would like that very much. None of my purses at home have room for my books during holidays, and I always want to take them to the beach with my parents when we go."

Hermione smiled back. "I have, had a similar problem. My mum used to give me such a hard time..." her voice trailed off sadly, not wanting to talk about her parents just yet. They were somewhere out there in the world right now, dating but not yet sure they wanted to get married, five years almost to the day away from having their only daughter. It was too surreal to think about.

She could tell Lily wanted to ask her about her parents, but the other girl let it go.

"Bathroom's through there, if you want to get changed. The other four girls had Divination, but they should be back up here soon if you'd like to meet them before we go down to dinner."

Hermione took a deep breath. She could do this. She had faced down countless Death Eaters and taken her O.W.L.'s at thirteen. She could totally do this.

"Sure, you don't mind waiting?" Lily shook her head.

"I have some time, and quiet, to go over my Conjuring essay. I'll be out here when you're done."

For some reason, that simple assurance made Hermione feel much better than she had all day.


	6. The Pen Is Mightier

**A/N: I have chosen, for my own purposes, to make Dorea Black James's mom. Read up on it if you're curious, there's not much in cannon either way.**

**Sorry for the recent lack of updates. My father passed away not too long ago and staying motivated to do much of anything is difficult at the moment. Reviews help, but please only send them if you feel called! I just enjoy doing this.**

* * *

The unusually all-black owl soaring toward the Slytherin table was one that Regulus had not seen since his last birthday, when it had borne some rather Dark presents to the townhouse at Grimmauld Place. Styx, as the owl's mistress had named him, fluttered elegantly down between the flagon of pumpkin juice and a half-full bowl of fruit. Regulus regarded him with trepidation. Those Dark objects had been nasty until his mother figured out how to get them to stop biting.

Styx extended his leg, large amber eyes looking at Regulus expectantly. The fourth-year cautiously removed the letter attached, noting the spidery yet elegant writing from his cousin Bellatrix.

_Sirius is always going on about how we can't pick our family._

There was an unmistakeable swelling of pride in his chest as he gazed at the letter. Bella, by no means his favorite cousin, was nevertheless the most well-connected and powerful. Her magical abilities were legendary... and if she had a touch of the Black family madness, well, that just added to the allure, didn't it? And she had chosen to write to him! A true Slytherin never took such an opportunity for granted.

Not wanting the owl to return to his mistress on an empty stomach, Regulus fed Styx a rasher of bacon. The bird hooted in a dignified way before exiting the Great Hall in a swirl of night and talons.

Regulus glanced around the table at his fellow Slytherins to see if his receipt of correspondence had gone unremarked. While Slytherins were supposed to be "on guard" at all times, most of his pureblood classmates were too self-absorbed to pay much attention to the younger Black. Though he had made something of a reputation out of being the antithesis of his notorious older brother, Regulus still had to fight for a place in his House.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, he put the letter in his pocket to be opened at a later date. Out of habit he glanced over at the Gryffindor table on the other side of the hall, where his big brother took a seat next to their somewhat cousin, and Sirius's best friend, James Potter.

_I used to be his best friend._

Growing up, Regulus had adored his older brother. In the younger Black's eyes, Sirius could do no wrong. He had always been underfoot while James and Sirius had misadventures around the Potter's estate, Olwyn House, but Sirius had always made Regulus feel included (even when he was laughing at him).

Then came the Sorting Hat, and Sirius was sent to Gryffindor, and all the trouble started. Sirius started mouthing off to their parents, challenging the long-held and preached beliefs in the purity of blood and passing the lot of them off as bigots. He tried to drag Regulus over to his viewpoint, but the younger Black avoided those discussions by retreating into the Black family library at Grimmauld Place. He had no wish to incur their mother's wrath.

Unfortunately Sirius took Regulus's desire to avoid conflict as complicity in his parents' views, and had started verbally attacking him whenever their paths crossed. Regulus, who really had not taken the time to examine his own views on blood purity, was angry that his brother would attack him so. Why did it matter so much to Sirius to be different from the rest of the family? He was already in Gryffindor, did he really have to push the blood purity issue? Was it not enough to be the Heir to the Black family, and the only other male in the line? Did he have to challenge their parents so?

He had said as much, causing Sirius to declare that his younger brother had completely missed the point. He hadn't really spoken to his younger brother since they were both dropped off at King's Cross a few days prior. Regulus was starting to wonder if Sirius would even acknowledge him in the halls if he greeted him. He doubted it.

Regulus shook himself from his reverie and rose from the table, leaving the Great Hall to seek out an alcove by which to read cousin Bella's missive. Finding an appropriate alcove behind a tapestry of a boar hunt on the fourth floor, far enough from the dungeons to avoid his housemates and equally distant from Gryffindor Tower, Regulus withdrew the letter and carefully broke the seal. A flash of light from the cracked wax indicated to Regulus the importance of this letter – his cousin had spelled it to alert her when he opened it. What could be so important? He only saw Bella at family functions like Christmas or weddings – her recent one to Rodolphus Lestrange a few months prior was the last time he had seen her.

Gathering his Slytherin cunning, he read:

_Dearest cousin,_

_I write to you on behalf of a man greater than myself, greater than any other in this world, though I dare not write his name. He is most interested in an event that took place the night of the welcome feast. A blast of... unusual magic emanated from the vicinity of Hogwarts. In his name, I beseech you: do you have any knowledge of what caused this magic? Reponds-moi soon, my cousin. My master and I eagerly await your letter._

_Toujours Pur,_

_Bellatrix (Black) Lestrange_

Regulus's brows drew together, his thoughts racing. He of course knew what caused the unusual magic – all of Hogwarts did, and he was surprised that the Dark Lord had not heard of the event by now. While he had yet to write to his parents about the first days of school (as only three days had passed), he knew that he would be addressing it in his next letter. Surely other students had mentioned it too?

Here was an opportunity, however, to ingratiate himself with an up-and-coming political power. Though only fourteen, Regulus could tell which way the wind was blowing. The most powerful families in Britain – the oldest and most wealthy – were, for the most part, falling in line with Voldemort's teachings of blood purity and the superiority of wizardkind. Though he had little insight into the arrival of Miss Granger, he was certain whatever information he could share would be valued by both his cousin and her master.

Regulus hurried to his rooms to write a response. Carefully he crafted the letter. He could not be too overbearing nor too subservient. A delicate touch was required.

_Sirius wouldn't know a delicate touch from a hole in the ground. Bloody Gryffindor._

Sitting back, Regulus regarded his third pass at a letter with satisfaction. If only he could show it to his father – Lord Orion would be so proud.

"Kreacher!" Regulus called. His house elf appeared with a low bow and a smile.

"What does young master Regulus require?"

"Please deliver this to Cousin Bella as quickly as possible." He handed Kreacher the letter and patted the ancient house elf on the head. Kreacher had been in their family for over one hundred years, had seen the greatest men of the Black line come and go, but he seemed to have a soft spot for Regulus.

"Of course, master Regulus," Kreacher said. With another bow and a crack, he was gone.

* * *

Hermione awoke screaming, her subconscious benighted with memories of battles and death. It took her a moment to recognize the painfully familiar yet entirely foreign Gryffindor hangings of her new bed in her new/old dormitory.

_Thank Merlin I cast Silencing charms last night._

It was an old habit – the nightmares had been going on for years, for all of them. Casting _Silencio_ and _Muffliato_ was now as much a part of her bedtime routine as brushing her teeth.

Canceling the spell with a wave of her hand, Hermione crawled out of the bed and stretched. The sun had barely risen, but her body had awoken from habit. Still half-awake, she rummaged through her trunk for her workout clothes. Changing them for her pajamas, she left the tower and took a run around the ground.

_Being thrust into the past is no reason to let this perfectly good body go to waste._

She did not think as she ran. Her morning constitutional, as she liked to call it, was the only time the perpetual motion machine of her mind slowed to a leisurely swing, instead of a frantic tilt-a-whirl.

For someone who used to be such a couch potato (bookworm, hello!), Hermione had taken to running with enthusiasm. Unlike Harry and Ron, Hermione found running from the enemy to be a preferable alternative to death. And when Hermione found something to be worthwhile, she did it correctly.

Drenched in sweat, but blissfully memory-free, Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower as the early risers were descending the stairs. Nodding to them in a distantly friendly way, Hermione made her way back to her dorm and took a shower. Her body, still sore from the battle and covered in a number of bruises, appreciated the deluge of warm water immensely. She changed into a worn pair of jeans and a soft burgundy sweater before returning to the dorm.

Only the brunette who gravely introduced herself as Amelia Bones was awake. Hermione nodded to her with a wary smile that was not returned. Amelia gave her a measuring look before departing the dorm. Hermione sighed, but was also a bit pleased. She remembered Amelia as the aunt of her year-mate, Susan Bones, and as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The suspicious yet brainy young woman would probably be an asset in the battle against Voldemort.

Hermione knew, from her perusal of back-copies of the Daily Prophet, that at this point in history Voldemort was considered as merely an actor in the political arena. The wanton murder of Muggles, the targeting of Muggle-borns and their families, the slaying of ancient families (including the Bones and the Potters)... all that would come later. For now, the Dark Lord was just an aspirant to the Minister's role – though one with powerful backing.

What she didn't know was what she should do about it. The answer lay within her trunk, carefully hidden in the beaded bag. She extracted the letter and climbed back into her recently made bed (she had made her peace with the reality of house elf servitude, but she was not happy about it) to read in privacy.

_Hermione,_

_If you are reading this letter, then the worst has happened. Either Harry has won and the price was too great, or Tom succeeded and you feared for your life. I wish to reassure you that I know you did your best to prevent this outcome, and thank you for your loyal service to the Order and the Light._

_I am unsure where you will arrive in time to correct these events, however I must implore you to NOT_ _reveal your knowledge of future events to anyone you encounter. To do so would have untold repercussions, not to mention I am afraid that few would believe you and you would find yourself in a compromising situation. I hope that by your presence and talents, events might play out differently._

_We can not hope to know the ramifications of the Candle, but do know that the future has irrevocably been changed by your presence. I believe, as you must, that this is for the greater good._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Hermione's eyes narrowed. She had seen the hefty missive Dumbledore sent himself, and was surprised that his letter to her was so brief. She had a thousand questions, none of which were answered. The biggest, of course, was would she be born? Would there be two Hermione Grangers in the world? Could she seek out her parents? What events was she allowed to interfere with? What about all her research and accelerated abilities? Not every sixteen-year-old was an expert in Arithmancy, or able to cast wandlessly and silently, or an Animagus.

Well, at least she was in good company here with that last one. She wondered if James and Sirius had mastered that ability yet.

"Hermione?" The curtains were pulled open and the oh-so familiar eyes of Lily Evans regarded her. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know if you were awake."

Hermione gave her a brief smile. She genuinely liked the other witch, at least what she knew of her so far. Though, some of that might just be because she was Harry's mother.

A horrible thought occurred to her. What if by her presence she kept Harry from being born?

"Hermione?" Lily repeated, looking worried. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry," Hermione said, quickly stowing the letter in the pocket of her jeans. "Just a letter from... never mind."

Lily looked like she wanted to ask more, but again refrained. Hermione had to admire her restraint – if the situation were reversed, she would have been pestering the other girl for answers.

"Want to go down for breakfast?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Hermione said, leaving the bed and following Lily out of the dorm. Lily was dressed in jeans as well, since it was a weekend, and a green and white sweater that brought out her eyes. They exchanged small talk on the descent into the castle, but both fell silent as they entered the Great Hall.

Silence spread as they made their way to the Gryffindor table and sat down at the end nearest the door. Hermione was used to it, though. She remembered the cave troll, and Quirrel, and all the times the school had shunned Harry and their other friends before they left the school. She calmly loaded her plate with eggs, toast, and sausages. It felt like ages since she had last eaten well. Lily was more disquieted, but emulated Hermione as best she could.

The rest of the house watched them curiously, though no one approached them. _Yet_. Gradually chatter picked up in the Hall again and Lily relaxed beside her. Being the center of attention must be hard for her. Hermione tried to give off an aura of friendliness, but none of her new housemates approached her. _Also a 'yet'._ Gryffindors might be bold, but they were also chivalrous. No one would bother her so close to her release from the infirmary.

Probably tomorrow, though.

After a few minutes of quiet eating, Lily set down her silverware with deliberation. She let out a long breath. Hermione smiled to herself. Harry did... had done the exact same thing when he was gathering his courage to ask a question that he was afraid would offend.

"Last night, you mentioned something about your parents," Lily said in a low voice. "Why haven't they come to see you? Or sent an owl for you? I know they're Muggles but-"

"It's hard to send owls when you're dead," Hermione said, laying down her own silverware and focusing on a point in the middle distance. "They were killed when I was thirteen. I was taken in by some family friends, who passed away recently. You could say I'm on my own."

When she could bring herself to look at Lily, she found herself overwhelmed by an empathetic gaze.

"Was it... was it You-Know-Who?"

Hermione shook her head. Answering truthfully would just open her up to more questions. Dumbledore had already compromised her by announcing to all who could listen that she was a Gryffindor – how could she be without a public Sorting?

_That's another thing I have to bring up when I speak to the Headmaster. Old codger._

"No, someone broke into our home and murdered them before they could phone the police."

Lily let out a shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry to ask, I've just been worried about my family lately. There's all this talk about blood and-"

"Abhorrent, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

Lily nodded fervently. "I couldn't agree more."


	7. Cloak and Doggy

A/N: So this chapter was also supposed to include some Lily/James action, but it was long enough. Something for everyone to look forward to in the next chapter. Just wanted to say thanks for all the follows and faves, glad to know others are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it! Also, please forgive the silly chapter title. I was going to call this something else, but, see explanation above.

* * *

Sirius was experiencing an unprecedented streak of bad luck. First, he'd received detention for his attempt to "unwittingly lure" Hermione's other well-wishers, and Madame Pomfrey, away from the hospital wing. It's not like he knew those bowtruckles would rip apart a priceless tapestry, now was it? He didn't really see how cleaning the Potions classroom, the Muggle way, for what amounted to the next nine hundred years was really a fitting crime, but then again McGonagall had always lacked a sense of poetic justice.

Like that time she'd given him detention for dumping cooking grease leftover from a particularly chips-heavy meal all over Snape. If that wasn't poetic, he didn't know what was.

So, he had missed any and all opportunities to approach Hermione once she was released from the hospital wing. He had neither seen her at lunch, nor witnessed Lily's fierce defense in the common room the night before. (What was that about anyway? Evans was nice enough, but tended to keep to herself.)

But not this morning, chap. He was up with the birds to make sure he didn't miss seeing Hermione at breakfast.

Okay, okay, so it was almost 9:30 and breakfast was almost over. But really, it was a Sunday with no Quidditch practice or pressing assignments. One can't be expected to wake up much earlier on a day with so little to do… besides grab the attention of a beautiful and mysterious girl.

The dorm was empty – Moony was probably already in the library (no doubt getting a jump start on this year's coursework), and Peter was nowhere to be found.

Actually, that had been Peter's status since they completed their Animagus ritual at James' house this summer. Odd.

As it was, Sirius made it down to the slowly emptying Great Hall just in time to witness McGonagall escorting Hermione from it. The younger witch was dressed in Muggle clothes that showed off her slight curves and the muscles in her legs as she walked. They were speaking softly to each other – the professor seemed to be encouraging Hermione, who looked a little down.

Sirius's gray eyes met her brown ones as she passed, and she gave him a small smile of recognition. His answering grin was probably a little too broad, a touch too eager, because it looked for a moment like she was going to laugh. Instead, her brow furrowed and she looked away as McGonagall led her away from the Great Hall towards a wing of first-floor classrooms.

"What do you reckon that's about?" James asked from behind him. Sirius jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of his best friend. He glared and James smirked back. Ever since achieving their Animagus forms, Sirius had experienced his dog-form's heightened sense of hearing and smell even when not transformed. James really enjoyed trying to fool both senses, and rarely succeeded.

"Dunno," Sirius said, letting his friend's success go. His eyes narrowed in thought. "But I'm going to find out."

Sirius spent most of his breakfast laughing obnoxiously loud with James in an effort to hide what he was actually doing: keeping an eye on the Head Table. Dumbledore was there, looking as benevolent as ever, but Sirius's keen eyes noticed the way the other teachers were slowly drifting out of the Great Hall and hanging an immediate right – the direction in which McGonagall had led Hermione.

"Should we follow them?" James asked in an undertone.

Sometimes it was scary how well his best friend knew him. Sirius flashed him a devil-may-care-grin.

"Prongs, I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Only Dumbledore remained at the Head Table when the two Gryffindors exited the Hall. They ducked into a hidden alcove behind a tapestry of a hunter slaying a manticore (in a rather gruesome fashion) and James slipped his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket. They had to hunch over a bit to make sure it covered their feet – both boys had shot up like weeds in the last two years – but thankfully they still fit underneath. James cast muffling spells on the both of them, since the cloak didn't cover sounds, and they stepped quickly (and not without great coordination) from behind the tapestry.

Dumbledore was coming down the hallway towards them, walking at his customary sedate pace. _Merlin, the man even makes putting one foot in front of the other look like a knowledgeable art. _For a brief second, Dumbledore's eyes flicked to the side of the hall where the two Gryffindors were concealed. A frown passed over his face, but it was gone before Sirius could be sure it was even there.

The Headmaster continued down the hall to an unused Charms classroom, which he entered. The boys slipped in behind him – he didn't shut the door very quickly – and took in the scene before them.

Hermione was seated at a desk at the front of the room, hunched over a piece of parchment. Her quill was flying like the eagle from which it had been plucked as McGonagall watched the last grains of sand fall in a charmed hourglass. The other professors were speaking quietly amongst themselves behind a transparent soundproof barrier to McGonagall's left, watching the young woman with interest.

"Time, Miss Granger," the Transfiguration professor said. Hermione let out a huff of air, but set her quill down all the same. She must have looked nervous, for McGonagall gave her a smile. "I'm sure you did well, dear."

"I've not had much in the way of theoretical lessons over the last three years," Hermione said as she rose from her solitary desk and approached McGonagall. "We were rather, um, practical in our studies."

Her voice shook with nerves, and Sirius found himself wanting to comfort her_. Circe's tits, what's wrong with me? I'm Sirius Black, the love 'em and leave 'em guy! I do not comfort women, well, not really._

Some of his confusion must have shown on his face, because James gave him a quizzical look. Sirius flapped a hand at him, a clear 'later'.

"You strike me as someone who likes to know the _why_ as much as the _how_, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said from his place at the door. Hermione whirled around, wand out and ready. Sirius noticed she had stepped protectively in front of McGonagall.

The Headmaster quickly held up his hands, showing they were empty. Hermione lowered her wand, breathing heavily though her expression was calm.

"My friends always said I was too curious for my own good," Hermione agreed. "And you really shouldn't sneak up on a soldier, Headmaster. I hear it's bad for one's health."

Beneath the cloak, Sirius and James exchanged a confused glance. _Soldier?_

The old man chuckled. "I would do well to remember that. Now, I've given the matter a great deal of thought, and I believe that a practical demonstration of your abilities should suffice to place you in the correct classes for your aptitude level. The theory you can catch up on, but as I'm sure you know _control_ and _intent_ are the greatest things one can learn in this esteemed institution."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue with the Headmaster, but after a moment shut her lips together firmly and nodded.

"Very well. Where do we start?"

Two hours later, Sirius and James had carefully seated themselves against the wall with their hands clamped over their mouths. They had to; otherwise they would not have stopped themselves whooping with joy.

Hermione was amazing with a wand in her hand. From what Sirius could tell (he would need Remus to confirm), she was performing seventh-year spells with ease. She had lasted ten minutes in a one-on-one duel with Dumbledore (with the appropriate parameters), correctly demonstrated every charm Professor Flitwick asked of her, accurately identified and named the ingredients in every potion presented to her by Slughorn, solved one of the most complicated Aritmantical formulas Sirius had ever seen, and completely impressed Professor Thorn in a discussion of Ancient Runes. The remaining teachers looked beyond impressed, and declined to test Hermione when offered the chance. Dumbledore was beaming, that ever-present twinkle in his eye shining very bright. McGonagall was beside herself, glad to have such an unexpected intelligent addition to her Lions.

"I think you have sufficiently proved yourself, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said once Thorn had given him a nod. "The other professors and I trust that your knowledge of Astronomy, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic are sufficient to place you with the other sixth-years."

James and Sirius exchanged gleeful looks. They were sure to take the House Cup this year!

"More than sufficient, Albus," McGonagall said. "I believe Miss Granger is ready to sit her N.E. at this moment!"

A cloud passed over Dumbledore's face, surprising Sirius. _Was that annoyance?_ It was gone as quickly as it came, just like his frown in the hallway.

"Due to the nature of Miss Granger's arrival, I do not believe that would be wise. She will find that the school is the safest place for her at this moment." The other professors exchanged startled glances, unsure of Dumbledore's meaning. Hermione looked like she was barely restraining an incipient eye roll.

McGonagall agreed to loan Hermione schoolbooks for the coming year, instead of having her purchase new copies from Flourish and Blotts. With that decided, the other teachers took their leave.

"A word, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked, raising his index finger. Hermione nodded and shot a smile at McGonagall, who was the last to leave.

"I'll send Miss Evans to collect you," McGonagall said as she closed the door. James perked up at the mention of his crush. Hermione called her thanks as the door closed.

"What can I do for you, Headmaster?" Hermione asked, leaning against the solitary desk.

"I simply wanted to let you know that I have contacted the Ministry to have you registered as a witch and to put through all the necessary identification paperwork. When you leave the school you should find pursuing a career to be a non-issue."

Hermione stiffened. "The only career I'm interested in pursuing, Headmaster, is ensuring that Tom Riddle ceases his persecution of the wizarding world."

_Who in Morgana's name was Tom Riddle?_

"I understand," Dumbledore said with a nod, "but you find yourself without funds and without allies. You will need money in order to live – what better way than to work for the world you seek to protect?"

"What if…" Hermione trailed off, looking into the distance. "What if we defeat him and I stop existing? There are so many questions I have, professor, and your letter didn't answer many of them."

"I do not know what I wrote to you," Dumbledore said with a shrug, "but the older I become, the more I find that the world is a strange, mysterious, but above all forgiving place. I should not worry yourself over something you cannot control, Miss Granger."

Sirius didn't know what to make of this conversation. There was something missing here, something to do with the mystery of Hermione's arrival. Of that, he was utterly sure.

He just wished he knew_ what_.

"But sir, the Elysian Candle. You know what kind of magic that was. I may not have made the candle, but I'm the one who lit it. They were banned by the Ministry for a reason, and though I've researched many Dark curses" (James stiffened beside him at the mention of Dark magic) "and their counterspells I can't find one for-"

"As I said, Miss Granger, worrying over something you cannot control is not healthy, nor is it helpful. You can do the most good by applying yourself to your studies now and assisting the order when you are out of Hogwarts."

Hermione bowed her head, but somehow Sirius didn't think it was in submission. Dumbledore didn't seem to think so either, but he continued on as if he did.

"I also wanted you to know that I have taken the liberty of making sure that no communication of your appearance at the Welcome Feast has made it to the outside world."

Hermione's eyes narrowed infinitesimally. "Do you mean to say you've gone through student mail?"

"It was for the best," Dumbledore said, managing to put a great heaviness and reluctance in his voice. Hermione didn't seem to be buying it, but she nodded anyway. There was a knock at the door.

"Hermione?" Lily Evans said, popping her head in the doorway. "I was going to take a walk on the grounds, care to join?"

The brunette smiled, and Sirius's breath caught. Merlin, she had a beautiful smile that took up her whole face. Her eyes twinkled, so much more honestly than Dumbledore's (_Where did that thought come from?_), and two adorable dimples creased her face.

"Are we done here, professor?" she asked Dumbledore. The ancient wizard nodded, and Hermione flew to Evans as if she had been Summoned.

"Did you pass?" Sirius heard Evans ask.

"Yeah, but I'm still worried about-" Hermione's response faded as she moved down the hall with her apparent new best friend.

After a moment's contemplation, Dumbledore too left the classroom. The boys waited five minutes to make sure he wasn't coming back before taking the cloak off and cancelling the silencing charms.

"I knew it," James said. "I knew it had to be some sort of Dark magic to let her into the school like that. Nothing can get through the Hogwarts wards without being completely underhanded."

At one point in history, the Potter clan had been numerous. Several main branches retained the family surname, while others contained the heritage of Godric Gryffindor matrilineally. That all changed with Grindelwald. It was said that he ran afoul of Archibald Potter, James' grandfather, as a young man, and that he had a deep-seated grudge against his family. His record seemed to indicate the truth of such a story, for one by one each branch of the Potter family tree was viciously pruned. By the end of the Great Wizarding War, only young Charlus Potter and his wife, Dorea Black, remained. Though teenagers, they had been determined to start a family and return the Potter name to its former prevalence.

Six miscarriages later, it seemed that Grindelwald had well and truly cursed the Potters in perpetuity. Until James was born one early spring day, it seemed like the Potter line would die with Charlus's generation. His parents often called him their miracle, and spoiled him rotten. Though Dorea was known to have dabbled in the Dark Arts (some whispered that James himself was the product of a Dark ritual, performed in desperation), James hated anything not of the light.

"Just because she used a Dark spell doesn't mean-"

"Don't give me that, Pads. Once you use a Dark spell, it gets in your soul."

"Hermione isn't-"

"Padfoot, I know you like her. I get that. Girl appears in the Hall injured, very damsel in distress-y. But she's a Dark witch, cousin. She has to be, there's no other explanation."

"If she's Dark then why is Dumbledore helping her?" That brought James up short. His brow furrowed in thought, while Sirius raced ahead. "She wants to destroy someone who is hurting the wizarding world. Don't you think she was talking about You-Know-Who?"

"She said Tom Riddle. As far as I know, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never been called that."

Sirius shrugged. "Bastard had to come from somewhere. No one names their kid Vol-Vol… you know what I mean. All I'm saying is, let's give her a chance before we start claiming she's the next Morgan le Fay, okay?"

James's jaw was set stubbornly, but he nodded. "She gets three chances, Padfoot. And that was mistake number one."


	8. One of the Girls

A/N: Yes, yes, I know, long time no post. My fiance and I just adopted a puppy and have been rather busy. At least it's for a cute reason.

Anyhow, fluff and stuff ahead. Some sad things, mostly happy ones. The next chapter should be a little more slash and spell, and bring all our romantic parties together. Also, fair warning, my original conception for Dumbledore in this fic was to have him be good but misguided. That is, um, no longer the case. So gird your loins, ladies and gents.

* * *

Lily and Hermione spent most of Sunday afternoon wandering the grounds, talking about all the gaps in Hermione's education. Hermione learned that Lily was rather adept at Charms and Potions, disliked History of Magic because it was learning by rote and therefore presented no intellectual challenge, and that she disagreed with Hermione's dislike of Divination.

"Even Muggles can tell the future from time to time," Lily argued. "My sister and I visited one the year that I got my Hogwarts letter and the psychic told me I would have a very interesting year ahead."

Hermione rolled her eyes and wordlessly conjured a cigarette, lighting it absent-mindedly with her wand. It was a bad habit she had picked up from Sirius during their time at Grimmauld Place. While she was not addicted, the action of smoking helped calm her.

Also wizards didn't get cancer, so there was that.

"Lily, I don't know you that well, but honestly I know that you're smarter than that. Those people are frauds who use platitudes that could fit into anyone's life experience. Almost every child has a very 'interesting' year, at least by their standards."

"But she said I would get a life-changing communication!" Hermione took a long drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke, away from Lily.

"That could have been anything – your parents explaining sex, a boy passing a note to say he likes you. I doubt she knew you were going to receive a letter inviting you to the only magical school in the United Kingdom."

Lily sighed. "Let's just agree to disagree, yeah? There's more things in heaven and earth and all that jazz."

Hermione nodded. She did not relish setting aside an argument, especially with someone as intelligent as Lily, but she also wanted to stay on the good side of the witch who was rapidly becoming her friend.

"Can I have one of those?" Lily asked, pointing at the cigarette. Hermione smiled.

"You don't think it's a filthy Muggle habit that should be looked down upon by all of wizardkind."

Now it was Lily's turn to roll her eyes. "If you're going to look all rebellious then so am I."

Hermione chuckled as she wordlessly Conjured another cigarette and handed it to Lily, who after a few tries with her wand was able to light it. Harry's mother was turning out to be less and less like she thought she would be. Harry had always held up this image of his mother as prim and popular, smart enough to run with the Marauders but strong enough to lay down the law. From what Hermione had seen, that version of his mother was a fantasy. Lily did not appear to have many friends, and she stayed far away from James and his friends.

They steered their conversation back to safer topics, and the two witches made their way back to the common room with the intention of getting Hermione caught up on the homework from the days she was unconscious. Naturally, as soon as they entered the portrait hole they were assaulted by the girls in their year who insisted on some "bonding time" in their dorm. Hermione barely had time to register Sirius's curious gray eyes watching her as she was dragged up the stairs to the sixth-year girls' dormitory.

Though the dorm was similar to the one Hermione had spent three years in, there was one key difference. In the center of the room was a large, round wooden table with oval brass name plates bearing each girl's first name placed near the middle of the table. Beneath each name plate, towards the edges of the table, lay piles of clothes. Hermione noted that there were many more clothes beneath Bridget and Hestia's name plates than anyone else's.

Marlene McKinnon, the tall girl with long wavy black hair, gestured to the table proudly. "You'll not see this in any other girls' dorm," she exclaimed. "This is our Sharing Table."

"It's how we exchange clothes between us, so our wardrobes never get dull," Hestia Watson, the blonde with hair so shiny it looked like a wheat field, explained. "We share everything – dress robes, uniforms, Muggle clothes-"

"You do have some of those, right?" Bridget O'Flaherty asked, looking at Hermione with blue eyes full of interest. "Lily of course has some, being Muggle-born and all, but her fashion isn't..." she trailed off as the three pureblood witches exchanged glances.

Lily rolled her eyes. "They think I dress too conservatively." Hermione snorted. In the wizarding world, land of perpetual Victorian virtue, that was saying something.

Hermione steeled herself. "Well, I can't promise my clothes are much better, but..." she went to her trunk and started dragging out long-forgotten dresses and blouses. They still fit for the most part, since she had stopped growing when she was thirteen, but to her eyes the outfits were a little young-looking. Since the uptick in battles over the last two months she had rarely worn anything other than her jeans, a dark shirt, and her dragon-hide jacket.

The next two hours were excruciating, especially for someone like Hermione (who had spent the last three years primarily in the company of boys and men). Hestia and Marlene both insisted on seeing everything in Hermione's small wardrobe. They asked where she had gotten such tight (unfashionable) pants. She lied and said they were all the rage in Muggle London, something which Lily thankfully did not contradict.

All four girls remarked upon how many long-sleeved shirts Hermione had. ("Honestly, it's like she's never heard of vests," Marlene said to Bridget in an undertone.) Unconsciously, Hermione's hand drifted to her scarred right arm. The word 'Mudblood' was just as legible as the day it was carved there by Bellatrix, about six months ago when Hermione had participated in a rescue mission to get Ollivander and Luna from Voldemort's clutches. She was the only of their rescue party that was caught, and thanks to some quick thinking and wandless magic she was able to escape after only three bouts of the Cruciatus curse.

Normally Hermione was proud of her battle scars, and she had a fair few since Dark curses had a way of sticking to the skin, but that one was still a little fresh and drew too many questions. The only time she had seen pity in her friends' eyes was when they saw that word, or heard it from the mouth of a bigot like Malfoy, and she would do many things to prevent others from feeling sorry for her. She was Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of the age and valued member of the Order. She needed pity from no one.

(At least, that's what she told herself.)

Hermione glanced around the room, feeling strangely at ease. She had never had moments like this with her old dorm mates, Parvati and Lavender. While nice girls, they were not able to connect with Hermione, nor she with them, when they were eleven. That awkwardness had carried through until Hermione left school. She told herself at the time that she had bigger things to worry about than friendship with two, in her opinion, silly girls, but looking back she wondered if she had been missing something. That life her parents and friends (okay, probably just her subconscious) asked her to live.

The tableau before her was certainly 'normal', at least for Hogwarts. Lily and Marlene were debating the merits of one of Hermione's lower-cut shirts (a birthday gift from Tonks), Hestia was trying to squish her slightly more ample thighs into a pair of Hermione's pants, and Bridget was flipping through an issue of _Witch Weekly_.

Amelia, who had been just as unwilling to attend bonding time as Hermione, sat on her bed with a large book of Defense spells in front of her. Her beady brown eyes moved quickly over the pages, pausing now and then at an interesting passage. She was waving her wand occasionally, practicing the movements that went with each spell. Hermione recognized the method, one she used herself while studying as it was much safer than casting unsupervised.

As the girls debated who could borrow Hermione's jeans first, she wandered over to the studying witch and carefully sat down on her bed. "Find anything interesting?" she asked. Amelia looked up, sharply.

"More interesting than _fashion_? Perish the thought." Hermione laughed.

"Indeed. Is that the text for this year?"

Amelia raised the book so Hermione could see the cover: _Magical Defense, a Compendium_. "No, this is something my brother Edgar gave to me for practice, in addition to my schooling. He always says a wise witch is prepared for all eventualities."

"He sounds like a smart man," Hermione said.

"He is," Amelia agreed. She considered Hermione for a moment. "Are you an undercover Auror?"

"What?" In hindsight, Hermione's response should probably not have been quite so high-pitched, or so loud.

"You can tell me if you are. My brother is in Auror training right now and he's told me as much as he can about the underground movement against You-Know-Who. It would make sense – there are Death Eaters recruiting among the students, why not the Aurors?"

"How do you know that Death Eaters are recruiting?" Hermione asked with narrowed eyes. She was so engrossed in the conversation that she hadn't noticed the other girls were now silent. "Have you been approached?"

"No, but I am a pureblood, and we hear things. They approached my brother after graduation, and said-" she paused. "If you are not an Auror, then I should not be sharing these things with you. I barely know you."

Hermione sighed. Being an undercover Auror would save a lot of questions during the school year, but was not a viable path long-term. After all, it only took a firecall to confirm that she was not part of the DMLE.

"I'm not, but I've spent the last few years committed to making sure that snake of a man does not end up as the next Minister of Magic. I can assure you that anything you say to me will remain in confidence."

"What about them?" Amelia said, pointing over Hermione's shoulder at the other girls. Hermione turned around to see the wide-eyed stares of the other girls.

"You spent the last few years fighting You-Know-Who?" Marlene asked breathlessly.

"His name is Voldemort-" (cue the screams) "and yes, in a manner of speaking. My friends and I were doing what we could to make sure that he doesn't drag this world into darkness."

"Where are your friends now?" Hestia asked, just as breathless as Marlene. Hermione averted her gaze to her trunk, to the bag hidden within it.

"They're dead."

Hermione looked away, afraid of the pity she knew she would see in their eyes, so she missed the glances between the other girls. Bridget and Hestia looked a little fearful, while the other three found their Gryffindor courage and chivalry.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said. "We didn't know." Marlene raised an eyebrow at Lily. Amelia was _never_ the first to console anyone.

Hermione shrugged. "No, you couldn't have."

Nothing quite puts a damper on girl time like the mention of death, so Marlene suggested they head down to dinner.

* * *

The first full week of classes passed quickly for Lily. Her assignments were challenging, the class discussion a little more invigorating now that they were at N.E.W.T. level, and for the first time since she was eleven she felt like she fit in somewhere. Her relationships with her year-mates had always been a little distant, friendly but distant, with the notable exception of Marlene. Now all five girls had a cause to unite them: Hermione Granger.

The girl was obviously brilliant – even a day of classes revealed that. Slughorn was beside himself over the Memory Restorative she brewed during Monday's double period, and she got the hang of their assigned Conjuration spell faster than anyone (even Lily, who was considered the brightest in their year). Lily reveled in their discussions of Charms theory and was slightly jealous of Hermione's way with Arithmancy.

It was more than their shared love of knowledge that drew Lily to Hermione. As Muggle-borns, they shared a similar experience with the wizarding world. The only person who could even begin to relate to Lily was Severus, and he had known of magic all his life. It was nice to have someone laugh at her Muggle jokes, or even banter back.

For all her brilliance and wry sense of humor, Hermione was obviously a bit damaged. In other Houses this might have led to bullying or avoidance, but not in Gryffindor. Lily would have it no other way. After Sunday's bonding time, the five Lions found ways to spend as much time with Hermione as possible. Hestia, the epitome of every blonde joke Lily had ever heard, managed to wrestle Hermione in front of a mirror each morning to help her tame that bush she called a hairstyle. Bridget filled Hermione in on all the gossip in the school – who was dating who, which boys were bad news, where the latest place to sneak off and drink firewhiskey was. Marlene joined in these conversations with verve, adding a pureblood political perspective that was, if nothing else, enlightening.

Lily stifled her laughter behind her hand during the latest conversation on Thursday night at dinner, for two reasons. First, Hermione was sending pleading looks towards both her and Amelia (who could be counted on to participate in less frivolous conversations). Second, Sirius Black had been sending increasingly longing looks towards Hermione all week. To the best of Lily's knowledge, the two had not spoken much since Black heroically carried her up to the Hospital Wing the night of the Welcome Feast. It was not for lack of trying on his part. Lily thought the other girls were trying to keep him away from Hermione – he was right at the top of Bridget's list of "No-Goodnicks".

The boys had been just as welcoming to Hermione as the girls. _Well, at least Remus has_, Lily thought with an absent-minded smile. Of the four Marauders, she found Remus Lupin to be the most tolerable, even if he did disappear every so often. He was the best choice as Gryffindor's male prefect from their year, and quite brilliant academically. Her opinion of him had risen even higher when he was so welcoming to Hermione, who seemed quite fond of him already. She wondered if Hermione had a crush on him, but dismissed the thought. Hermione did not seem like the kind of girl who had 'crushes'. She liked a boy or she did not, simple as that.

A lot like Lily herself, really. She had gone on a few dates with Severus in fourth year, but admitted to him (and herself) that there was nothing romantic there before things had gone too far. There had been a few dates with Crispin Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in the year ahead of him, but those too had gone nowhere beyond a few simple kisses.

Like any teenage girl, Lily Evans was ready to bet swept off her feet by a boy who might actually care about her mind as well as her body. Unfortunately, it seemed like Hogwarts would not be the place for her to find someone who could do so.

Lily's gaze slid over to Potter, who was of course staring at her with a little smile on his face. Again. She rolled her eyes and put down her fork, since she was done with dinner.

"Library, Hermione? I know you wanted to get started on that essay for Charms." Bridget stopped mid-flow and looked at Lily with surprise.

"Can't you forget about schoolwork for one night, Evans? We were supposed to have girl-time tonight, remember?" Marlene and Hestia turned towards her, equally shocked. Hermione, however, drew a relieved breath.

"Oh, but I really need to get started on that essay," Hermione told the others. "Flitwick said it is so crucial to the other spells we'll be learning in the N.E.W.T. courses this year."

Marlene sighed in a resigned way. "I'll allow it this time, Granger, but you and Evans had better be back in the common room in two hours or I will do something drastic."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like spell all the sleeves off those long-sleeve t-shirts you wear. Honestly, don't you come from somewhere with summer?" Hermione's eyes widened dramatically.

"Very well, we'll be back in two hours. Come on Lily." She jumped up from her seat and practically sprinted from the hall, dragging a confused Lily behind her. Why did Hermione wear so many long-sleeved shirts anyway? She did not see James Potter rise to his feet to follow them.


	9. Scars and Trajectories

A/N: So I have many plotlines that I'm trying to wrangle together into something coherent, thanks for being patient with me. There's a confrontation between Hermione and James on the horizon, and Peter's gonna put his foot in it... but that's just a tidbit to keep you interested.

The runes that save Hermione are inspired by my favoritest show ever, Supernatural. Enochian for the win.

Big shout out to **Rose blood and fire**, who took the time to review each chapter as she read. I have many old English teachers who would be proud of you. Glad you like my badass Hermione.

Thanks to all those who have taken the time to review so far, I really appreciate your input and encouragement.

* * *

Hermione spent most of the walk to the library cursing Bellatrix Lestrange her penchant for cursed weapons. She absentmindedly ran her hand over her right arm, feeling the raised letters beneath even through the thick weave of her uniform jumper. She had scoured the Black family library at Grimmauld Place shortly after her rescue from Malfoy Manor, but had not found any glamour strong enough to cover the hated scars.

As she seated herself at her favorite study spot, Lily disappeared into the ancient wooden stacks to find the reference materials they would need to complete their Charms essay. Hermione let her mind drift into memory.

_Shortly after Christmas, a distinguished eagle owl made its way through the wards surrounding Grimmauld Place, headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The owl, belonging to Lucius Malfoy, contained a ransom note for two much-needed allies of the Order: Garrick Ollivander, the renowned wandmaker, and Luna Lovegood, a budding Seer and friend to the youngest members of the Order._

"_We have to rescue them," Harry declared during the nightly meeting in the dreary kitchen. "Ollivander knows too much about the Elder Wand, and Luna's predictions are still coming at odd times. There is no telling how useful she will be to Voldy Shorts."_

_A few people raised objections. Remus, while fond of Luna, did not think that it was worth the risk at that time. They were still searching for the remaining three Horcruxes – the locket, the cup, and Nagini – and he felt that any other missions would be detrimental to the final goal. Snape was of the opinion that the Hallows did not matter, nor did the lives of those idiotic enough to be caught by the other Death Eaters. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if he had been in the party that captured the wandmaker and the Seer._

_Dumbledore overruled both men, insisting that a rescue mission should be planned and carried out as quickly as possible. Then again, he was the one obsessed with Hallows. The Resurrection Stone still gleamed in the ring on his withered arm, and he occasionally borrowed Harry's cloak for "inspection". Hermione wondered if anyone else had yet figured out what the Stone was, or what Harry's Cloak really was, and if they had not then when she should tell them._

_Her brown eyes met the twinkling blue gaze of Dumbledore, and his grandfatherly manner fell for a moment as he noticed her gaze on his ring. Beneath the indulgent chuckles and love of candy lay the mind of a strategist, who had had over a century to dissociate himself from the cares of younger and less-experienced witches and wizards. _

Guess I should put off telling the others then, until the moment is more prudent._ Hermione was loyal to her friends and the Light, but she was not stupid. In war, timing is everything._

_A week later they were ready. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Moody and the twins would sneak onto the Malfoy property after Snape lowered the appropriate wards. Moody, the twins and Harry would take the brunt of the battle while Ron and Hermione found the prisoners and escorted them to safety. It was simple, elegant, and foolproof._

_Unfortunately, they were bigger fools than previously anticipated._

_Ron managed to get Luna and Ollivander away, but Hermione was captured by Bellatrix and Lucius. Though she knew they disliked each other, the Dark wizard and witch moved together seamlessly in battle. With a few well-placed curses Hermione, who was still not as skilled as Harry despite all her knowledge, fell to their combined might._

_Bellatrix tortured Hermione for an hour, first about the plans of the Order and then just for fun. Lucius had watched until he grew bored. _

"_Do stop playing with your food, sister," he muttered as Bellatrix ended her third Cruciatus. "You will ruin your appetite." Hermione curled up into a ball, trying to control her sobs. _

"_Ah, you are right of course," Bellatrix said, sheathing her wand. "It's time for the main course."_

_Well, you can guess what happened next._

_Hermione gazed at her bleeding arm as shouts rang out in the house above her. Bellatrix's head turned towards the door and Hermione seized her chance. She wandlessly Summoned her wand from Lucius's pocket and scrambled to her feet, wand trained on the blonde Death Eater._

"_Protego Maxima," she whispered. She'd learned long ago not to waste her breath yelling spells – they were just as effective at a lower volume._

_Malfoy sneered as Bellatrix laughed. "Oh, the silly little Mudblood thinks she can hold her own!" _

"_We are the most powerful of the Dark Lord's followers, you idiotic chit," Malfoy said. "What chance could you possibly have against us?"_

_Hermione glanced at the ground, where a puddle of her own blood had collected. She was getting lightheaded – the curse on Bellatrix's knife kept her cuts from healing for a while – but not faint enough to forget a useful piece of Old magic. One that she hoped the Malfoy wards would not hold against._

_Knowing that her shield would hold, Hermione knelt and began drawing symbols on the ground with her blood. _

"_Silly Mudblood! Now is not the time for art!" Bellatrix laughed. She threw a couple powerful Reductor curses at Hermione's shield, which thankfully held. Malfoy however, realized what Hermione was doing as she sketched the last sigil._

"_No!" he shouted as Hermione pressed her hand to the center-most of the five symbols on the ground._

"_Bye bye," Hermione sing-songed as the runes carried her back home._

"Hermione?" Lily asked. Hermione shook herself.

"What?"

"Sorry, you just looked... never mind." Lily dropped the heavy reference tomes on the table and took the seat next to Hermione, fully prepared to work. Hermione glanced around the library, drawing in the familiar comforting scent of knowledge and time. Among the books and the minds of the great she was safe, nothing could touch her here.

"Are you alright?" Lily asked, glancing up from her as-yet blank parchment. "I hope that Marlene didn't upset you?"

There was another question there, one that Lily was not ready to ask and one Hermione was certainly not ready to answer. Hermione smiled a little crookedly at her friend.

"She did, but I really don't want to talk about it right now. I'll tell you some day, okay?"

Lily gave her a level look. "When?"

Hermione sighed. "Before Christmas, I promise. I just, I just need some time to prepare mentally, okay?"

Lily raised one expressive eyebrow, but nodded. "Okay, Hermione."

James was in a state when he met up with his fellow Marauders in their dormitory. Sirius and the others had been sitting on their beds pursuing individual interests: Remus studying for their first Potions exam, Peter writing a letter to his mum, and Sirius daydreaming about Hermione. Again.

A week since her appearance and the girl was still an enigma to him. He had barely been able to speak to her in the last week – she was always surrounded by the other girls from their dorm, and in class she either sat with Lily or Remus. He did not know _why_ she appeared to be so fond of his friend, but he did know that he did not like it. Not one bit.

"She's hiding something," James declared as he threw the door open, startling the other three.

"Who is?" Peter asked.

"Granger," James responded, tossing his schoolbag on his bed. "And some day soon, before Christmas at least, she's going to tell Evans what that is."

Sirius rolled his eyes. James had been spying on Evans _again_. All his advice on how to not be creepy was clearly going in one ear and out the other.

"James," Remus said in a warning tone of voice. As their resident prefect, it was his charge to curb James's more dramatic tendencies. In Sirius's opinion, he did not do a good job. Then again, Sirius was usually the one egging him on.

"No, Remus, I overheard them in the library. I am not making this up, I swear to you."

Remus and Sirius exchanged exasperated glances. In the last week James had been circumspect in knowing where Hermione was at all times, watching her carefully for any signs of Dark magic or tendencies. He watched her interactions with Lily's Slytherin friend, Snape, particularly closely. Sirius knew what his friend was hoping to find, and was relieved (though he barely admitted that to himself) that he had not yet found it.

"James, when are you going to let this drop?" Sirius asked. His best friend rounded on him, that determined glint in his eye that usually meant a daring prank would be pulled, nay-sayers be damned! Usually Sirius was happy to see that glint, but not today.

"When I know for sure she is not a Dark witch," James said. "Voldemort is out there, recruiting right now. You've all seen what I've seen – this incredibly powerful witch drops out of the bloody sky in the middle of Hogwarts, she knows spells that she has no business knowing..." James trailed off, stepping closer to Sirius. "You saw what I saw, Padfoot. You heard what I heard. Why are we disagreeing here?"

Sirius drew himself up to his full height. He was a bit shorter than James, though broader in the shoulder. "She said she had _researched_ Dark curses, not performed them."

"Why else would she be researching except to use them?"

"She said she was a soldier! I doubt Dumbledore would be offering asylum to the girl if she was a Death Eater!"

"Am I missing something here?" Remus asked, gently pushing the two Gryffindors apart. James glanced at Sirius, who sighed and nodded his assent, and then quickly explained how they had followed Hermione to her testing, and what their conclusions were. Until now Sirius had been able to keep James from sharing this knowledge with the other Marauders. Something within him said that Hermione's demonstration of her powers was a secret to be guarded, that she needed to be protected.

_Although, why would she need to be protected from my friends? Maybe James, but why the others?_

"I agree with James," Peter said. "She definitely sounds Dark to me." Sirius glared at him, and to his surprise the smaller boy did not cower.

"I don't know," Remus said. "She doesn't seem like the kind to be Dark."

"You're just saying that because she has a crush on you," Peter said, surprising Sirius with the snarl in his voice as much as the content of his declaration.

"What?" Sirius said, glaring at his werewolf friend. Remus blushed.

"She has only been friendly, Padfoot, as you've seen. I doubt she has a crush on me."

"I bloody well hope not," Sirius said. "If she's going to have a crush on anyone around here, it's me!"

"So that's why you won't believe me!" James yelled. "You still have feelings for her."

"Let's all just calm down," Remus said, but the other two ignored him.

"I think you're just being unreasonable, Prongs," Sirius said. "There is no proof she is Dark, you're just so determined because of what everyone says about your mother-"

James's wand was pointed at Sirius's face so quickly he barely had time to blink. "Don't you _dare_ say anything against my mother, Sirius. Not after everything my family has done for you."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "Fine. I owe it to Lady Potter to refrain from repeating those assuredly erroneous accusations. But James, I'm begging you, leave Hermione alone. She's fragile, even you can see that. Give up this three strikes business and just leave her be."

James sighed and ran his hand through his messy black hair, causing the strands to stick up as if he had just dismounted from his broom. "I will give it up, _for now_. But if I have even the faintest suspicion that she's Dark, I promise you I will look into it."

Sirius was unhappy with his friend's persistence, but he nodded. He excused himself, unable to handle being in the dorm with James at the moment, and made his way down to the common room. Finding a seat by the fire, Sirius set to brooding. He did not indulge in this sort of behavior often, but when he did he could brood with the best of them.

There was no way Hermione was a Dark witch. There was such an aura of goodness about her, and his instinct to protect her could not be stirred by someone who was evil, who had turned from the Light and wished harm to others for the sake of causing pain. Sirius was familiar with Dark witches – his mother was one, his cousins were... hell his whole family was nothing but Dark. How could James doubt his assessment?

_Well, it's not like his judgment is the clearest when it comes to that._

Sirius knew that James's mother had dabbled in the Dark Arts, before she married Charlus Potter at the very least and probably during the early days of their marriage as well. Charlus was an open-minded sort of man (losing one's entire family tended to bring out the survival instincts), and accepted the love of his life in all her shades of Light and Dark. So if the whispers were that their troubles conceiving were solved by a Dark ritual, who was Sirius (or anyone else) to judge?

"Sirius?" The Marauder jumped out of his seat, startled by the one voice he most longed to hear. "Are you alright?" Hermione's sweet brown eyes were shaded with worry.

"Yes, yes of course," Sirius said, trying to smile for her. "How are you, Hermione? I feel that I've barely seen you at all this past week."

To his great delight, Hermione blushed. "Sorry about that, I get really into my studies sometimes, and the girls have been really... welcoming." She made a face.

"Gossiping your ears off, aren't they?" Sirius asked with a knowing grin. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Though I shouldn't even be speaking to you, Mr. No-Goodnik."

Sirius laughed. "So, Marlene gave you her list, did she? She's just bitter our two dates to Hogsmeade didn't turn into something more." He waved a hand dismissively as Hermione chuckled.

"Oh, so you aren't the love-em and leave-em guy that I've heard so much about? Is there another Sirius Black running about Hogwarts then?" Hermione turned on the spot, as if searching the common room for an elusive man-slag.

To his great surprise, her words hurt him. He knew what the girls said about him – though he had only slept with one or two girls, they tended to exaggerate in their gossiping to each other. His reputation as a good kisser was well-deserved (as were his other accolades), but he had to admit that his _conquests_ were not as numerous as gossip said. For the first time in his life, this insinuation seemed to be working against him instead of for him. Usually girls were lined up around the block just to kiss him.

"I may leave, but no "'em" is unsatisfied when I do," Sirius said in a haughty manner. Hermione laughed a little, but he could see the disapproval in her eyes.

"Haven't found a girl worth staying for then, Sirius?

What kind of man would Hermione want? Did she want someone like Remus, who was always respectful and even a bit dull? She certainly wasn't the type to wilt at the first smooth line that fell from his lips. No, Hermione was smart, sarcastic, and not the kind to take any of his crap.

Sirius was at a complete loss as how to woo her.

His confusion must have shown on his face. "Don't worry, Sirius, I know you're a good man," Hermione said, eyes soft and all teasing gone from her voice as she took a step closer to him. "And a few youthful indiscretions should not determine the entire trajectory of your love life."

Sirius laughed a little, again surprised by the deep effect her words were having on him. "How do you know I'm a good man and not some lothario?" Hermione made a face.

"You volunteered to take care of me, a stranger who appeared under mysterious circumstances, when you could have easily sat with the rest of the student body and watched the scene unfold. You're a man of action, Sirius Black, as all truly good men are." She smiled at him, and his answering grin was small and hopeful.

She saw good things in him. She did not give much credence to the gossip she heard. Most importantly, she had started a conversation with _him_, and not the other way around. He opened his mouth, ready to ask her to accompany him to the next Hogsmeade trip, when Hestia called for Hermione across the common room.

"I have to go," Hermione said. "But we should talk more later, yeah?"

Sirius nodded. "I'd like that. After dinner tomorrow we could, I don't know, walk down by the lake?" He attempted to affect nonchalance, and was not entirely sure that he succeeded. Hermione gave him a knowing smile.

"A walk down by the lake, huh?" she said with a sly grin.

"Just a walk, nothing more," Sirius insisted. It was the opposite of what he would have normally done with a girl (where a walk down by the lake really meant finding the nearest broom cupboard). Maybe that's what she wanted?

"I'd like that," Hermione said as Hestia's summons grew more insistent. "I'll see you later."

Sirius watched her join her year-mate with a grin on his face.


	10. Beneath Birches

A/N: Don't you hate re-reading your work and discovering continuity errors? This is what copy editors are for. Sigh. Everyone is sixteen, some going on seventeen, and I'm just stating that to assuage my own guilty conscience.

Fic rec: "Roundabout Destiny" by Mary Royale. I have been re-reading this almost non-stop since discovering it two weeks ago, easily one of my favorite Hermione time travel stories. Go read it now!

Reviewers/follower/favoriters – thank you! You keep me motivated. Let me know what you think of my budding Sirius/Hermione romance.

A few disclaimers: smoking is bad. Underage drinking/drinking to excess is bad, especially while melancholy. Don't have sex til you're married. (Or emotionally connected, or bored... wait, I'm invalidating this disclaimer. No sex til you're married!) Eat your vegetables and brush your teeth.

* * *

The next time the Dark Lord summoned him, Lucius was reviewing the first quarter profits of his family's company, Malfoy's Magicks. His father had been in ill-health of late – the Healers thought he had contracted dragon pox, unusual for a wizard in his late fifties but not unheard of – and Lucius was now head of the family and the company in all but name. Narcissa was proud of him, as was his mother, but Lucius was stretched too thin to feel anything but weariness.

His Mark burned painfully, indicating that Voldemort was impatient. Concentrating on the fine thread of pain that connected his soul to the Dark Lord's, Lucius apparated through the wards around his Wiltshire manor. He immediately knelt upon landing in the vicinity of his master, inwardly smirking over his smooth and almost soundless appearance, and noted that they were in some dirty hovel. Not really the kind of place where a society made of the finest wizardkind had to offer should meet, but Lucius knew better than to voice his protestations. Voldemort's _Crucio_ was the most painful version of the spell he had ever encountered, worse than Abraxas Malfoy's by a wide margin.

Five 'pops' later, the Death Eaters were assembled and the Dark Lord spoke. "Much better this time, I am pleased. There are a few urgent matters to discuss this evening, and then I have tasks for a select few of my most capable Death Eaters. Firstly, darling Bella, have you communicated with your young relative?"

Lucius's sister-in-law nodded. "Regulus was most clever in his correspondence, my Lord. I am amazed that this information has not come to light previously, but Reggie thought to send his letter by house elf instead of owl." She giggled girlishly. "The Blacks are all clever like that."

Voldemort smiled, however his red eyes were bored. "Yes, they are a fine example of what every pureblooded family should aspire to be." Bellatrix blushed. "And what did _darling_ Reggie have to say?"

"Well, my Lord, a girl appeared in the middle of the Welcome Feast in a flash of golden light. She handed a letter to the Headmaster, and now she has been Sorted into Gryffindor." Murmurs burst out among the Death Eaters, but they were silenced with a glare from Voldemort. "Regulus believes she must have entered the castle by Dark means, since, as one of his professors stated, there is no way to simply appear on the grounds of Hogwarts."

"Which teacher?" Lucius rolled his eyes behind his mask, thankful that Voldemort's back was to him. His master's obsession with the school was completely out of proportion to its importance.

"He did not say, my Lord." Voldemort nodded.

"And he was certain that this was the only possible source of Dark magic at Hogwarts that evening?"

"That is the clever part, my Lord. Regulus suggested that her appearance might have been a cover for Darker events-" Lucius snorted delicately, and Bellatrix glared at him. Lucius had no love for his wife's cousins. Walburga was insane, Orion henpecked, Sirius spoiled and arrogant... actually, Regulus had the most potential out of the whole family, if he grew to be a man of conviction. But his suggestion was in no way clever or likely to be true.

"Unlikely," the Dark Lord said, with a quelling glare at Lucius. "But an interesting theory. Did he say anything else?"

"Only that the girl is rumored to be brilliant with a wand. And also that she is a _Mudblood_." More murmurs, louder this time. Voldemort sneered in distaste.

"Very well, you have given me much to ponder. We will discuss this at a later time." He stood a little straighter and continued. "I believe it is time for us to forward our true agenda: to make wizards the predominant race upon this earth. It is now time for us to begin to assert our authority over _Muggles_ by more... direct means."

The Death Eaters cheered, and Lucius nodded. That was the most excitement it was decorous to show, after all. His life had been so stressful of late, and now, finally, it was time for some fun!

* * *

Friday looked to be the last nice day Hogwarts would have that year – cool, crisp, with fluffy clouds scooting across the autumn sky. Hermione had butterflies in her stomach all day, mind racing ahead to her scheduled after-dinner walk about the lake with Sirius.

It wasn't a date.

It wasn't a date!

...Right?

Hermione knew _all_ about Sirius's past with women – the man himself had shared some of them with her when she was deemed old enough to drink firewhiskey with him in the den of Grimmauld Place. He had laughed even harder at her disapproval and shock, but one night things had gone differently.

"_Honestly, Sirius," Hermione said, taking a prim sip of her firewhiskey while Harry rolled his eyes, "didn't you care about any of those girls?"_

"_I certainly meant them no harm," he said with a wink. Then his face turned thoughtful. "It's not like they cared about me either. It was a sort of mutual using. I would never take advantage of a woman who didn't know what she was getting into."_

_Hermione looked at Sirius, surprised. Not that she had ever assumed he was taking advantage, but she had never heard it put like that. Naturally she had put herself in the shoes of the women he seduced, knowing how she would feel when this handsome and charismatic man left her behind for someone prettier, or sexier. She would feel used, dirty, and unimportant. It had never occurred to her that Sirius might feel the same way, given that he covered up any deeper emotions with a wink and great good humor._

"_Ever the gentleman, eh, Padfoot?" Remus asked with an edge to his voice, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. She realized that she had been staring at Sirius, and he had been staring back._

"_Of course," Sirius said with a toss of his shoulder-length black hair and a clearing of his throat. "A pureblood must be a gentleman at all times."_

"_Good thing I'm off the hook then," Harry said._

"_Harry, your parents were both magical. Why on earth wouldn't you be considered a pureblood?" Hermione asked. All three men stopped and looked at her. Maybe it was the whiskey or her new-found guilt over making assumptions about Sirius, but she felt a little irritable. "I mean, there had to be a first witch and wizard, right? Probably descended from Muggles themselves. Everyone comes from Muggles, who came from apes, who came from Africa. Really all this blood purity tosh is... is... bloody ridiculous!"_

_Sirius was the first to start laughing, followed quickly by Harry and Remus. Hermione started chuckling soon after, carried away by their merriment._

"_Don't ever change, kitten," Sirius said, laying a warm and supremely masculine hand on her arm. "Don't you ever change."_

Admittedly she had had a bit of a crush on the dashing ex-con, but it was just one of those unattainable fantasies all bright teenage girls have about experienced older men. Young Sirius, with his unexpected shyness, was much more in her league. Sort of. Not that she would consider anything more. Timelines to maintain and things like that.

Though how much of the timeline she knew was disrupted by her very presence? She still needed to talk to Dumbledore about that. Maybe...

_No, I will not ruin the future for a cute boy. No matter how cute. And puppy-dog like. And... for gods' sake, Granger, get it together!_

Hermione considered changing clothes before going down to dinner, looking over the Sharing Table for outfit options. She had not told the other girls that she was going for a walk with Sirius, already fairly confident in what their response would be. Disapproval from Amelia; shock then disappointment then disapproval from Lily; a different sort of shock (a much less flattering kind) from the more girly roommates, followed swiftly by disapproval.

Nope, better play it safe and stick with her uniform. Not like she could show off anything fun anyway, between the scar on her chest from Dolohov's curse in the Department of Mysteries and the scar on her arm from Bellatrix...

No! This was not a date!

Hermione did take some time to fix her hair in the mirror before leaving the dorm, sleeking it down a potion Hestia had given her. She did not consider herself to be drop-dead gorgeous, but she knew she was pretty enough (if only her hair would behave consistently). Sure, she wasn't classically beautiful like the Watson twins, Honoria and Hestia, nor was she slightly exotic, like Marlene (whose mother was a Greek witch). Still, her eyes were a nice shape and her lips were curved and pouty.

She wondered if Sirius...

_Oh for the love of little green apples, this is not a date!_

Still, her eyes found Sirius's as soon as she entered the Great Hall. He smiled broadly at her, that happy grin that reminded her of his Animagus form. Dogs have a particular kind of smile, wide and carefree and joyous. Sirius's smile was just like that, and it was impossible for her to not beam back at him.

The butterflies in her stomach turned into frogs, hopping and prancing so much she would be surprised if she ate much of anything.

_Not a date!_

She sat with Lily and Amelia for dinner, halfway along the table and out of earshot of the Marauders. They talked quietly about the week's lessons and what they planned to do that weekend. Apparently Gryffindor tradition, for the upper years, was to celebrate the end of the full first week of classes by throwing a party in the common room after curfew on Saturday. Her seat-mates seemed unlikely to attend, but Hermione thought they could be persuaded. If anything, sober people would be needed to contain the natural Gryffindor exuberance of their classmates.

And maybe just maybe she felt like she had earned a firewhiskey.

"Ready, Hermione?" Sirius asked. She snapped to attention, not even realizing that he had come to her side of the table and was standing right behind her.

"Ready for what?" Lily asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Oh, Sirius and I are going for a walk down by the lake," she said.

All six girls immediately protested, loudly enough that the whole Great Hall looked in their direction, in exactly the way Hermione had predicted. Sirius looked a little worried, and maybe even a little resigned, under his carefully defiant expression – though she suspected she could tell that because she knew him well enough. Well, she knew his future self so well. Would know him so well? _Tenses are confusing_.

Hermione held up a hand, and the girls' voices subsided. "I'm sure he will be a perfect gentleman, won't you, Sirius?" Hermione turned to look at the gray-eyed Gryffindor, who seemed shocked that she would stand up for him to her dorm-mates. "Won't you?" she repeated.

"Of course," he said, extending a hand to help her up from her seat. "I'm fairly certain you would hex me into oblivion if I didn't." Hermione laughed, grabbing her satchel. To her surprise, Sirius took it from her and put it over his shoulder and offered his arm in a decidedly old-fashioned gesture.

"Well, maybe not into oblivion," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "But at least in the neighborhood." She took his arm and he led her out of the Great Hall, away from the gaping mouths and disbelieving stares of their year-mates.

* * *

Sirius could not stop smiling as he led Hermione, on his arm (thanks for all the manners lessons, mother!), past his gaping friends and outside the stifling stone walls of Hogwarts. James looked livid, Peter confused, but Moony didn't seem surprised at all. Sirius didn't care about them, though. His thoughts were completely on Hermione. Not only had she shown faith in him again, but the whole Great Hall had seen it.

If he was Padfoot right now, his tail would be wagging.

"You are going to be a gentleman, right?" Hermione asked when they were a sufficient distance from the Great Hall. His heart fell for a moment, until he turned and saw the mischievous grin on his face.

"Only if you'll act the lady," he responded, waggling his eyebrows. Hermione laughed and whacked his arm with her free hand.

"Their faces! I know you have a reputation, Sirius, but I didn't think I had accumulated one in the short week I've been here." He laughed with her, enjoying the musical sound of their merriment intertwining. He had never really joked around with a girl like this.

"They probably think I'm going to seduce you," Sirius said.

"This would have to be a date for you to do that," Hermione said, looking away from him. Again, his heart fell.

"Isn't it?"

"Isn't it what?"

"A date?"

"Is it?" Her voice was disbelieving and, he wished, hopeful.

"I don't know, don't think I've ever been on a proper date before," Sirius said, pretending to ponder. "What would make it a date?"

Hermione, picking up on his playful mood easily, tapped her chin with the forefinger of her free hand. "Well, flowers would be a nice start."

"_Orchidium,"_ Sirius said immediately, producing a beautiful bouquet of stargazer lilies from his wand. He disentangled his arm from Hermione's and offered the flowers to her with a bow. She giggled, a supremely feminine sound he had never heard from her before. He wanted to make her do that again.

"What else?" he asked, taking her arm again and leading her to his favorite spot by the lake, near a copse of silver birch trees.

"Getting to know each other," Hermione said. She wordlessly Conjured a Gryffindor-red blanket for them to sit on. "Although, I should warn you, there's a lot about myself I can't talk about."

Sirius thought about that for a moment. Hermione was a mystery – that's part of what he found attractive, really – but she had to tell him about herself eventually, right? He must have been silent for longer than he thought, because Hermione said in a very different voice. "Or we can just sit here and not talk."

"No, I'm sorry. I just, well, this is probably the part of the date that I have the least experience with." He grinned roguishly to take some of the bite out of the honesty of that statement, but her eyes filled with sympathy anyway. She glanced back at the trees surrounding them.

"You know, the silver birch is said to symbolize new beginnings and cleansing of the past." She turned those beautiful brown eyes back on him. "We don't have to know everything about each other just yet but, maybe they'll help us get started."

"Is there anything you don't know?" Sirius asked, with a gentler smile than before. She was so brilliant.

"Yes, but I'm working on it." They both laughed and conversation flowed from there. He told her a bit about his upbringing – she had a lot of questions, being Muggle-born, about what purebloods experienced in their childhoods. There was no reason to go into every sordid detail, but they found enough to keep them occupied.

He talked a bit about how he became friends with Remus, after first explaining that he had practically grown up with James. "So you became friends because he helped you with a Transfiguration essay?" she asked, smiling. "Thought you of all people would be brilliant at that." Sirius raised an elegant eyebrow. Surely she didn't know... no, that was impossible. No one knew.

"Yep, he's a good friend and a better homework helper," he said. Hermione laughed.

"That's what Ron always said-" she cut off abruptly, her eyes filling with sadness.

"Who's Ron?" Sirius asked, curious for a peek into Hermione's life before she appeared in a flash of golden light.

Hermione looked away, out over the lake, and took a shuddering breath. "He was one of my best friends. He's dead now."

Sirius was silent for a moment. He desperately hoped she wouldn't cry – he didn't know how to handle crying girls. She took another shuddering breath and squared her shoulders. "Sorry, it was recently, sort of, and-"

Sirius reached out and touched her hand, surprised at how small and feminine it felt beneath his calloused hands. "Like you said, we don't have to talk about everything today, right?"

Hermione nodded. "It's getting late, we should be getting back."

Night's cloak was spreading across the sky, the jewels of her garment twinkling, as the two Gryffindors made their way back to the Tower. Somewhere along the way Sirius had taken her hand in his again, enjoying the feel of her palm pressed against his. He had kissed many girls, and done much else besides, but this... this was different.

Still, he really wanted to kiss her. She kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as they quietly made their way back to the dormitory, still under the melancholy of their last topic of discussion.

"I'm sorry I killed the mood," she said as they neared the portrait hole.

"Oh, you think there was a mood then?" he asked, allowing a bit of flirtatiousness into his voice. Hermione blushed – yet another thing he wanted to see, repeatedly.

"I don't know," she said, suddenly shy.

By unspoken agreement they stopped at the last turn before the portrait of the Fat Lady. Sirius turned and took both of Hermione's hands in his.

"Hermione," he said quietly. "You don't have to be shy with me, not after all the things I've told you about myself down by the lake." Her eyes met his and he smiled. "You know, I don't usually talk to girls like this. Most of them don't seem-" he swallowed, shying away from the vulnerability in his own voice. He wanted to say that most girls didn't seem interested in getting to know him, other than in the biblical sense, but could not bring himself to voice that thought.

"I know," she said. "More the fools they. You are worth knowing, Sirius."

"Why are you so sure of that?" he asked. How could this woman drop out of the sky and already be so sure of him, when girls he had known for six years just assumed he was a walking erection?

She squeezed his hands. "Need I remind you? Good man? Worth knowing? Is any of that sinking into your thick head, Sirius Black?"

He chuckled. She was something else – melancholy one moment, mischievously brilliant the next. Hermione Granger was easily the least boring girl he had ever met. "You're something else, kitten. Don't ever change."

Hermione went very still, staring hard at him. He raised her left hand to his mouth and kissed the back in a gentlemanly gesture.

"Normally at this point in the date I would be snogging you senseless, but I did promise to be a gentleman." He did not miss the flash of heat in her eyes at the mention of snogging, but chose not to press his luck. Hermione seemed to believe in him, for whatever reason. No one besides his friends did that, and he was desperate enough to not throw that away on a few kisses.

No, those lessons were sinking into his thick skull just fine.

"So this was a date then?" Hermione asked, a little breathlessly.

"Oh yes, and tomorrow night's will be too."

Her answering smile put the stars to shame.


	11. Sunrise, Sunset

A/N: Sorry for the delayed post. Last weekend was my bachelorette/bridal shower, and this past weekend had an out of town wedding. Here's a reward for the 200+ (GASP!) followers! Thanks everyone - keep the reviews coming!

* * *

Lily spent most of Saturday morning in the library, getting ahead on her essays and readings. That night was the infamous Gryffindor "Homecoming" party, and due to years of prior experience she doubted she'd even be able to study in the dorm with all the noise sure to be generated by her celebrating classmates. She usually went for an hour or so before finding somewhere quieter to spend her evening, but Lily had a feeling she was going to be staying for the full duration this year.

The reason for that certainty was sitting next to her, staring into space with a goofy smile on her face one minute and a worried frown the next. In fact, she had been alternating between the two expressions for the last ten minutes.

"Hermione?" Lily asked. The brunette witch jerked. "Anything you'd like to share with the class?" Lily's disapproval was evident in her voice, since she was certain she knew the cause of Hermione's distraction and she was not happy about it. _Lily_ knew what kind of man Sirius Black was – a dog who peed on every hydrant he encountered. She couldn't believe that Hermione had consented to go on a date with him after Bridget and Marlene, girls who had personal experience with Sirius's womanizing, had specifically warned her against it (never mind agreeing to a second one). Therefore, all this mooning over one date was completely... surprising.

"Not really," Hermione said, a blush rising on her cheeks.

"Don't give me 'not really', Granger. You're thinking about Black and whatever depraved thing he tried to get you to do last night." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"For your information, _Evans_, Sirius was a complete gentleman. He gave me flowers and we talked by the lake." Lily raised her own eyebrow. She hadn't believed that story the first time Hermione said it, and she didn't believe it now.

"So you said. But, tell me, is that all some sort of euphemism?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Look, I get the concern, and I understand that Sirius has a _reputation_-"

"That's putting it lightly-"

"BUT sometimes you just have to give someone a chance to prove themselves. I'm not the kind of girl he usually goes for. I'm not that pretty-" Lily huffed in annoyance. Hermione was not classically beautiful but she had a wonderfully expressive face. And she had that whole mysterious-appearance-insanely-powerful-thing going for her. "I'm really not. I'm not saying he _sees _something in me or whatever, but he's giving me a chance and it seems only fair that I should do the same. He's really rather sweet once you get to know him."

Lily huffed in exasperation. She knew what the boys at Hogwarts were like, how they behaved (_especially_ towards Muggle-borns). They were not the kind of men who deserved a chance, because they were only thinking about one thing: what lay beneath a girl's clothes instead of what was on her mind.

"And I really don't appreciate that you think I would just, just _spread my legs_ for the first guy who took me out here!" Hermione said with a glare. "I thought you knew me better than that."

Madam Pince came over to shush them before Lily had a chance to respond, and not a minute later a dark-skinned first-year Hufflepuff meekly approached their table.

"Miss Granger?" the eleven-year-old asked. Hermione turned her head to look at the young man, who took a step back at the fire still glowing in her eyes. "I-I have a letter from the H-headmaster for you." He held out a folded piece of parchment for her, not quite meeting her eyes.

Hermione smiled. "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt," the first year practically whispered. Hermione's posture relaxed further and her smile widened.

"It's lovely to meet you, Kingsley. You must call me Hermione." Kingsley blushed as Hermione quickly opened and read her letter. Lily shook her head. She had watched Hermione's interactions with the school over the last week, and Hermione's choices in who to be kind to continued to surprise. She got that Hermione liked Sirius, but did she really have to be so solicitous of his little brother? Regulus was in Slytherin, for Morgana's sake!

"Did he ask you to wait for a response?" Hermione asked the Hufflepuff. Kingsley shook his head and Hermione smiled again. "Then you best get back to your common room. I heard that Professor Flitwick will be starting your year on Levitating Charms and those require a great deal of preparation." Kingsley nodded his head and left, walking with a bit more dignity than before.

"Being nice to firsties? Really, Hermione. We're supposed to terrorize and intimidate them," Lily said with dry humor. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"How could I forget, Evans?" She tucked the letter into her pocket and made no more mention of it, returning her attention to her books.

Lily fidgeted, her mind moving quickly. Now that she reflected on what she said, she _had_ made an assumption about how Hermione would react to Sirius's attentions. She had jumped to the conclusion that everyone would reach if she ever actually gave in to James Potter's ridiculous claims.

Crap, she was behaving no better than the purebloods who made her life miserable for the past six years. She was Lily Evans, she was supposed to be above all this petty nonsense!

"I'm sorry," she said after a minute. Hermione did not look up from her books. "It's just, we're all used to girls throwing themselves at Black if he so much as smiles in their direction. All the Marauders, even Peter, are treated that way. I, I didn't think, and I'm sorry if I offended you."

At this, Hermione did look up with a small smile. "I know. Thank you for trying to protect me, but I can take care of myself. Promise."

The day passed quickly, despite the lingering tension in the air, and Lily was close to satisfied with her progress by the time Hermione left for another "date" with Sirius. Lily was sitting at her favorite table, near the Restricted Section, eying her Charms book and wondering if she should get a head start on the essay due at the beginning of October, when she felt someone's gaze burning a hole in her neck. She whipped her head around, and found herself face to face with Severus.

"Don't scare me like that, Sev!" she whispered, placing a hand over her heart. "You frightened me half to death."

"Sorry Lily," he said, taking Hermione's recently vacated seat. Severus was not handsome by any stretch of the imagination – his nose was too hooked, his hair too greasy, his mouth too prone to frowns. But in his eyes gleamed the light of intelligence, and in Lily Evans' opinion that went a long way.

"Where have you been? I hardly saw you this summer and you've been acting distant since O.W.L.'s ended." Severus shifted uncomfortably, probably remembering their planned scene beside the lake. He already drew enough ire in Slytherin for being a half-blood; add to that his friendship with a Muggle-born and, well, they made his father's attentions seem loving by comparison. At least Mr. Snape was a Muggle, and therefore did not know the Bone-Breaker curse.

"You know what the plan was, Lily," he said quietly. "Am I to understand that it worked too well?" Lily deflated, understanding what Severus _wasn't_ saying.

"I remember," she said. "I know it's dangerous for you. I just get a little lonely, that's all."

"From what I understood, the Lions were treating you better this year. The whole school has noticed how you've rallied around Miss Granger." He spoke Hermione's name with a subtle change in tone, but Lily knew him well enough to recognize what he was really after.

"I don't know who she really is, how she got here, or why she seems to know everything in class," Lily said in one breath. "And I don't appreciate being pumped for information." Severus backed off quickly.

"My apologies, Lily. You can understand the interest, I assume?"

Lily looked down at her books. "She's a Muggle-born like me, Sev. I'm just worried about where all this interest will lead."

"A Muggle-born?" Severus gasped. "But, the magic she used to get here! No one even suspects that she is anything but a pureblood. Where was she trained? Is she Dark?" The last was said with almost a religious fervor, and Lily shuddered. Severus's fascination with the Dark Arts was not one she shared, for all that she was a proponent of learning.

"I told you, I know nothing beyond that." It was a lie, she knew plenty of things about Hermione, but she recognized that gleam in Severus's eye. The purebloods and half-bloods all had it: how can I use this person to my advantage?

And Lily Evans was not one to be used, not even by her friends. Though she was starting to truly wonder just who fit into that category.

Without another word, she gathered up her books. Severus was lost in thought, and jumped when she not-so-subtly slammed her bag on the table.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"Yes, appearances must be kept up. After all, I can't mean anything to you. I'm just another Mudblood, right?"

* * *

For their second date, Hermione met Sirius at the main doors. He was pacing back and forth, much like an over-excited puppy, and Hermione grinned when he spotted her and his face lit up. His joy erased all thoughts of Dumbledore's note from her mind.

When they exited to the grounds she started toward the lake and the birch grove, figuring that Sirius would want to repeat the day before. He grabbed her hand, however, and led her towards the valley that lay on the other side of the school.

"Where are we going?" she asked. He winked at her, the Sirius Black she knew best by reputation shining through.

"That would be telling," he said. She stopped, pulling on his hand.

"I really don't like surprises, Sirius," she said, trying her hardest not to giggle. It was difficult, when his eyebrow was cocked like that.

"Yet another piece of the puzzle that is Hermione Granger," he said dramatically. "Muggle-born, daughter of dentists, deadly with a wand, and disliker of surprises. Oh yes, I will file that one away, right after I show you what the mountains look like at sunset."

Hermione allowed herself to be dragged toward the long wooden bridge that connected Hogwarts' main campus to another piece of the grounds, a northern arm of the Forbidden Forest that she had not had the opportunity to explore during her years at the school. All in all, quite the romantic setting – it made her quite giddy, but she was too caught up to correct herself.

The sunset was lovely, as was the conversation. Hermione was learning more about Sirius than she ever had during her stay at Grimmauld. It helped that he was her age in this time, and had not spent twelve years in Azkaban. She had never realized how much that had changed him until she watched the fire in his eyes as he spoke of his latest Marauder exploits. That same fire had flared only occasionally in her time, usually in the presence of Remus, and even then not for very long.

As she listened to him, Hermione had to wonder about what she was doing. Was it smart? Was it right? Dumbledore originally said that he wanted her to prevent the first Blood War by her very presence, but now she had to wonder what that entailed. If she changed things enough, if she saved Sirius from the future she knew lay ahead, would she still exist? Would she just fade back to her own time, with a whole new set of memories?

_I really should have paid attention to those old episodes of 'Doctor Who' that Dad loved. _

"Hermione, are you listening to me?" Sirius said with a laugh. She shook her head to clear the morbid thoughts.

"Yes, sorry, just wandered off for a minute." The vulnerability on his face was a little painful.

"I hope I'm not boring you-" he started, but she cut him off.

"You're not, even if I think it's appalling that you were able to procure that much squid bile for such a purpose." He raised a skeptical eyebrow and she sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm not very good at this either. Yesterday was my first date with a boy, ever. And while I knew what was expected – purely from hearsay, you know - I'm not exactly sure what I should be doing for the second one."

Sirius's other eyebrow joined its mate. "_You've_ never been on a date before? Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not enough time, bigger fish to fry, that sort of thing. And there weren't exactly a dearth of interested parties."

"I'm not sure what a dearth is, but I can hardly believe I'm the first boy to be, as you say, _interested._"

Hermione blushed, remembering the hesitant flirting between herself and Ron back when they all first moved to Grimmauld Place. She always knew it wouldn't go anywhere, but it had been nice to feel that someone was paying attention to her for reasons unrelated to the war.

"Like I said, never really had the time." She ducked her head, another question coming to mind. "Why are you interested in me, Sirius? I'm not your type at all. I'm not pretty like Bridget or fun like Marlene or-"

To her great surprise, Sirius cut her off by placing a finger on her lips. "No, you're not like anyone at all. You don't see me as some sort of Don Juan. You see me, and I'd like the opportunity to see you, too."

Her blush intensified even as her eyes narrowed. "That was a bit forward for a gentleman, don't you think?"

Sirius took a step closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "That's not exactly, what I meant, kitten-" her breath hitched, she had always secretly loved Sirius's nickname for her – "but I'm fascinated that your mind took that turn."

The amount of blood rushing to her face really could not be healthy. Surely some was needed in her limbs, or left to pump through her heart?

"Sirius..." she said, pleading with her eyes. He sighed.

"Right, well, this is my first second date too-" he ignored her eye roll here - "but I do believe some flirting and touching is permissible."

Hesitantly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his chest. _Mmm, Quidditch certainly is good for the pectorals_.

"Like this?" she asked softly. He hummed in agreement, and they watched in silence as the last streaks of color leeched from the sky.

"We should get back, it's almost time for the party," Hermione said as the last sliver of light ducked beneath the horizon.

"Right, I promised James I'd drink him under the table this time," Sirius said, keeping an arm around her waist as they left the bridge. Hermione snorted.

"Shouldn't be hard. I bet all they have is butterbeer."

"That's what you think, kitten," he said, smirking when her breath hitched a little. "What if I told you I had a premium bottle of Ogden's Finest socked away in my trunk, courtesy of my favorite uncle?" Hermione laughed.

"I'd say that you should save a little for me and not waste it all on Potter." Sirius looked at her with interest.

"You like Ogden's?" Hermione shrugged. The Sirius from her time had taught her to like it during their late night chats in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

"I prefer it to butterbeer. Less sugar, doesn't give you as much of a hangover in the morning."

"Then I solemnly swear that I will save you a shot." Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Or three. Fair enough?" He hugged her closer as she nodded and they wound their way back up to Gryffindor tower.

* * *

Next chapter: the party! What did Dumbledore's note say? Why is Hermione being nice to Regulus? I hope to get this update posted sooner rather than later.


	12. Setting the Board

A/N: Planning a wedding is exhausting. Seriously. Elope if you get the chance.

Here's the next chapter, obviously. I went through a few different drafts before reaching this one. Hope you like!

* * *

Hermione approached the stone gargoyle, thinking hard. Dumbledore's note had said to meet her here on Sunday morning, but did not say why. Remembering his stance on her involvement in the war with Voldemort, she doubted they were going to discuss anything she really cared about.

"Twizzlers." she said to the gargoyle, who hopped aside quickly. After a few turns on the escalator-like staircase, she knocked on the Headmaster's door.

"Enter," he called, so she did. "Ah, Hermione, glad you could join me. I trust that last night's festivities in Gryffindor Tower have not dulled your exceptional mind."

Hermione blushed. "No, Headmaster."

"That is good to hear. I'm sure you're wondering why I summoned you here?" Hermione nodded as she took a seat in front of his desk. "I wish to discuss the events that led to your use of the Elysian Candle. The final battle as it were."

Her eyes dropped shut as she took a deep breath. It was far too early in the morning to be having this conversation, and if she was being honest the hangover potion she took before bed was not quite as effective as she had hoped it would be.

"I hope you do appreciate that I waited a bit to discuss this, given that the events leading to your departure from your time are, if I were to hazard a guess, painful."

Hermione nodded, took a deep breath, and began.

"I want to start by letting you know that the Battle of Hogwarts was not your fault, and that the school was already evacuated by the time the Death Eaters arrived." She opened her eyes and registered the shock on the Headmaster's face.

"The Battle of Hogwarts?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes, sir. Voldemort returned to power during my third year, and he did so in such a public manner that most parents saw fit to keep their children home from school. The Muggle-borns fled the country, while the wizarding families largely went into hiding. The Ministry was infiltrated early, by men like Lucius Malfoy whose gold kept them out of Azkaban at the end of the first war." She took a breath.

"But of course, you know all that. I trust it was in your letter?" The old man nodded, and Hermione continued. "For a while we stayed at the home of a member of the Order, but when Hogwarts closed for good the winter after I turned fifteen, we used it as another safehouse. On good information from our informant within the Death Eaters, we moved to Hogwarts a week before the battle happened."

Her eyes took on a faraway look. "As I'm sure you read in your letter, there were several of us in the Order who were school-age: almost all the Weasley kids, Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, myself, Luna Lovegood, a few others who stayed in England to fight Voldemort. I don't know if we realized how much we missed the school until we were back, and even then it didn't feel the same. The classrooms were empty and the Great Hall was too large to eat in. The elves were still here though, and that was something."

"Anyway, when the timing was right, we had our spy slip to the Death Eaters that the wards of Hogwarts were failing without the students here to provide them with enough ambient magic to get a charge. It's rubbish, of course, the wards are powerful enough to last for ten years without students around, but Voldemort always had a weakness for underestimating the magical powers of other witches and wizards. We gave them a range of days in which to attack – they chose the very last day."

"All of my friends died that day, locked in their own battles. Neville died at the hands of all three Lestranges, the people responsible for driving his parents insane. Sirius took out Lucius and Narcissa, but killed himself in the process. I'm not sure how the others died, except for Harry and Voldemort, because I saw the ones I mentioned with my own eyes."

Here Dumbledore interrupted her. "How did Voldemort die?"

"_Priori Incantatem,_" Hermione said. "At least, that's what I think it was. I've only read about it, and I know there have to be circumstances beyond two wands with cores from the same magical creature. Harry had a bit of Voldemort's soul in his head, so it was kind of like Voldemort attacking himself. As you know, suicide by spell is impossible, so when Harry won the battle of wills necessitated by _Priori Incantatem_, the magic backfired and, and..." Hermione trailed off, unable to continue.

"I understand Miss Granger. So after their deaths, the battle ended?" Hermione shook her head.

"The Death Eaters kept fighting – after all, they had nothing to lose. I ended up fighting Bellatrix Lestrange myself, and after she died I was the only one left."

They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione spoke again. "As you said in your letter to me, sir, we won, but the price was too great. The Candle was an opportunity to prevent that future, so that Harry can have his parents, and other Muggle-borns can grow up in a world without fear. If I have to be the sacrifice for that, well, I go to the pyre gladly."

Dumbledore gave her a little enigmatic smile. "Spoken like a true Gryffindor."

The ancient wizard sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers, lost in thought. Hermione let her mind drift while he pondered, memories of her friends blossoming in her mind's eye. She startled when the Headmaster cleared his throat.

"Thank you Miss Granger, your information has been most helpful. You are free to return to your common room." Hermione nodded and stood, but turned back to him when she reached the door.

"Headmaster, I must ask you to reconsider my involvement in the current war. I'll be seventeen in a few weeks' time, considered an adult in the wizarding world. As I said, anything I can do to prevent future bloodshed would greatly put my mind at ease."

Dumbledore sighed. "I will consider it, Miss Granger. There might be conditions but, as you said, this is a war."

Hermione gave him a halfhearted smile and turned to leave, missing the calculated and disapproving look on Dumbledore's face.

* * *

Lily groaned as she gained the shores of consciousness, rolling over on her side. She yelled upon discovering that she was not alone, in her bed, as she expected.

"Bloody hell, Lily," James groaned. "It's too early for you to be shouting at me."

It was at this point Lily Evans realized she was on top of James Potter, in the common room, and that her head felt like a whole herd of hippogriffs was dancing on it.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked, jumping to her feet and far, far away from James Potter's (rather delectably rumpled) body.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, getting to his feet. "Ow, my bloody head-"

"Language!" Lily commented absentmindedly, observing the carnage around her. The Gryffindors threw one hell of a party the night before, as evidenced by the unconscious bodies of her housemates and the bottles scattered liberally around the common room. She was surprised the elves had yet to clean it all up, but that thought quickly took a back seat in the face of her current predicament.

"What happened last night?" she asked, not meeting James's eyes. She had spent the better part of six years avoiding him like a plague – it wouldn't do to break that habit now.

"Well, if I remember correctly, which is not a wholly reasonable assumption, Granger egged you and Bones on to drink something like half a bottle of Ogden's, at which point you declared that you did not hate me as you've always previously stated, and I think I asked you to Hogsmeade next weekend."

"And what did I say?"

"Dunno, just when you were about to respond, you threw up." _Guess the elves did show up to clean, then._ "I'm choosing to take that as a maybe."

Lily covered her eyes with her hands. She had never experienced a hangover before, but she was sure that she currently had one and also that she never wanted to have one again.

"And I bet you're going to bother me until I give you a definitive answer," she said without removing her hands.

"Got it in one, Evans. That's what I like about you – you're as smart as you are beautiful."

"Oh enough already!" Lily shouted, waking almost everyone else in the common room. Sirius slept on, but the others groggily started to shift. Lily didn't pay them any attention. "You've been using lines like that on me for years, Potter. If they haven't worked by now, why do you keep using them." James looked down at his feet and actually had the good grace to blush.

"I'm sorry, Evans, it's just that-"

"What? You can't communicate with me like a normal human being? You have to declare your undying love at every available opportunity, while I know for a fact that you're off kissing other girls not an hour after?"

James's blush deepened.

"I don't know if this is your idea of picking on the Muggle-born or not, but I do know the one thing that will get you off my back."

James seemed to bracing himself for a negative response. "Evans, before you say no-"

"But I'm saying yes," she interrupted. He quickly raised his head to look at her, clearly startled.

"What?"

"Yes, I'll go to Hogsmeade with you. Maybe then you'll give up. Congratulations, Potter, you caught me."

"That's not what I-"

"You got your way, are you happy?"

She didn't wait for him to respond, instead choosing to storm up the tower to the girls' dormitories.

* * *

Regulus cast a notice-me-not charm as he left the Great Hall, following his brother and Hermione as they headed out to the grounds. The two were discussing the party that had apparently taken place in Gryffindor Tower the night before, and to be honest Regulus was not enjoying spying on them. There were some things one never wants to know about one's estranged brother.

"Those fireworks were amazing, Hermione," Sirius said as he folded her hand onto the crook of his elbow. "Where did you learn that spell?"

"Ron's older brothers were pranksters. They made that spell up to annoy their mum," she said, giggling a bit. "Glad it earned me the right to partake of the Ogden's. Butterbeer gives me hangover no matter what potion I use."

"Yeah, sorry about the whole 'earning' thing. James can be, well-" Regulus rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what kind of git James Potter could be, and it was obvious to the whole school that Gryffindor's self-proclaimed King of the Pranksters did not like Hermione.

"Don't worry about it. He's right to be suspicious, given how I came to be here."

Regulus's ears perked up, expecting to hear just how exactly that was, but Hermione did not elaborate. Instead, the two chatted about people in their year as they wandered the grounds, and Regulus learned nothing of value besides the fact that Hermione would be seventeen in a few weeks and the duo planned to go to Hogsmeade together the following weekend.

_Well, maybe my cousin can make something useful from that information_.

To his shock, their conversation turned to the topic of Regulus as they traced the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They had been discussing the fact that Hermione was an only child, and she asked Sirius what he thought of his brother.

"Reggie isn't a bad kid, but he's a Slytherin through and through."

"Just being in that House doesn't make him evil."

"No, being in our house makes him a bigot. It's disgusting, he does whatever Mother and Father tell him. And they fill his head with this blood purity nonsense!" Hermione looked thoughtful as she hugged Sirius's arm a little closer.

"If he's anything like you, Sirius, he's capable of thinking for himself. Give him a break, he's thirteen. Maybe he'll come around." Sirius shook his head.

"Doubtful. He stands too much to gain by being the favorite. I'm the Heir right now, but if things keep going the way they are, I doubt I'll be welcome back at home after I reach majority."

This was more than Regulus had ever heard his brother open up about anything in years, and he couldn't be more surprised that he was doing so with a witch that, theoretically, he barely knew.

_Such a bloody Gryffindor, wearing his heart on his sleeve where anyone can snatch it away._

As he followed the couple back to the castle, Regulus had to admit that he found his brother's behavior surprising. Sirius was almost behaving like a proper pureblood gentlewizard should, instead of like the manwhore had had been for the last few years. Regulus would be the first to admit that he didn't know overmuch about what went on between two consenting adults in a convenient broom cupboard, but he knew enough to grasp that it should be shared with someone you cared about, rather than the nearest willing person. The fact that Sirius spent his time talking to Hermione, instead of attempting to swallow her tongue, was... surprising.

That, coupled with Sirius's point of view on their family, gave the young Slytherin much to think about as he rushed off to pen a letter to Bellatrix.


	13. Perception - Edited

Chapter 13: Perception

A/N 4/6: added to the end, because what I wrote for the next chapter seemed to fit better here. Thanks for all the follows and reviews!

* * *

"You did what?" Hermione asked, brown eyes wide.

"I said I'd go to Hogsmeade with him," Lily muttered, pulling her Charms book so close to her face that she was practically bathing in the ink. "I thought it would be the only thing that would shut him up."

"Nice to know that all these years he was going about things in entirely the wrong way," Marlene chimed in from across the dormitory, where she was helping Bridget try something new with her hair. "He kept asking you when you were sober. All he had to do was get you drunk!"

The other girls had a chuckle at Lily's expense, but it was not mean-spirited like she always thought it would be. Hermione's arrival had changed the dynamic in the Gryffindor sixth-year girls' dorm, though Lily could not quite put her finger on how it had all happened. One day Lily felt isolated due to the insurmountable cultural and genetic divide of "Muggle-born" and "pureblood", the next they were teasing her about hangover-influenced decisions.

Lily glanced over at Hermione, who was staring off into the distance with that contemplative expression she often wore. Somehow this girl, who had dropped out of the sky, was the missing piece to their puzzle. Some gap in their lives, heretofore unnoticed, had been filled. Which is why they were all sitting around their dorm instead of down in the common room with the rest of the house, doing homework on their beds and trying out the latest styles in Marlene's copy of _Witch Weekly_. Personally, Lily thought all those braids on someone with Bridget's lack of cheekbones was a bad idea, but she kept her mouth shut, reluctant to shatter the strange harmony.

"Well I think it's wonderful," Hermione said after a long minute. "People can surprise you if you just give them a chance."

"Like you and Black?" Amelia asked with a raised eyebrow. Hermione nodded but did not elaborate.

"What's going on with you two anyway?" Marlene asked. "I thought we told you to stay away from him." Hermione shrugged and did not answer, though her brow furrowed. Lily could tell she was getting tired of defending her choices, but she refrained from defending Hermione's choice. She still thought it was only a matter of time before Sirius showed his true man-slag colors.

_The same goes for Potter. I know exactly what he wants, and it isn't to talk._

"Hello, Hermione, anyone home?" Hestia asked, waving her hands in front of Hermione's face.

"What? Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking," she said, shaking her head.

"About Black?" Lily asked, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

"No, I was wondering if we should take any precautions this weekend." The girls exchanged glances.

"Hermione," Marlene started in a hesitant voice, "I know you said that you and Sirius were taking things slow, but I neglected to ask what exactly your definition of 'slow' is..." she trailed off meaningfully. Hermione looked confused for a second before her eyes widened.

"No! Not that kind of protection, although that is a bit of knowledge I am sorely lacking, but I meant from the Death Eaters."

The room went from giggles to silence in eight seconds flat.

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked, her hair ridiculously half-braided and half-not.

"I mean they're out there, and we'll be out there too," Hermione chewed her lip. "Just, we all read the _Prophet_, right? The mysterious disappearances and attacks. I'm... as a Muggle-born, I'm a little afraid to go to Hogsmeade without taking proper care is all."

The other girls were silent, pensive and shocked that someone would think of such a thing when they had a date with a cute (albeit kind of slaggy) boy to look forward to. Lily was in the same boat. Everything that happened outside of school seemed unreal, even though the recent attacks on those speaking out against Voldemort terrified her (when she stopped to remember that they were happening).

"Dumbledore wouldn't let us go if it were really dangerous, Hermione," Amelia said with confidence. "Of that you can be quite certain." Hermione shrugged in an 'I'm-not-convinced-and-you-can't-change-my-mind' way, and Lily raised her eyebrow. Since when did Hermione not trust the Headmaster?

The atmosphere gradually lightened as the girls found their own ways to set aside Hermione's worries, but Lily watched her newest friend carefully. After listening to Hestia, Marlene, and Bridget chatter for a few minutes, Lily moved from her bed and plopped down next to Hermione.

"Why don't you trust Dumbledore?" she asked in a low voice. Hermione flitted her eyes to the side, checking that no one else was listening.

"The Headmaster always has his own plans, Lily. And I do mean always."

"How can you be so certain of that? You got here like three weeks ago, Hermione. You can't possibly-"

"I just know, alright?" Hermione grabbed Lily's hand. "You're my friend, and I care about you. I don't think that Dumbledore wants us all to get hurt, or that he would leave us completely defenseless... just remember that he always puts the rest of the world ahead of an individual, unless it's him. Okay?"

Lily shook her head at Hermione's strange behavior, but didn't pull her hand away.

"Please Lily, trust me?" With a sigh, Lily relented. "Thank you."

* * *

Hermione had been in 1976 for about three weeks, and the weight of the war weighed heavier than ever. With the allowance given to her by Dumbledore she was able to take out a subscription to _The Daily Prophet_. While she had never considered the wizarding publication to be a font of truth, it did at least seem to get some of the facts correct in each Death Eater-related incident.

_Probably because that foul Rita Skeeter isn't working there yet._

Unfortunately, the events that signified the escalation of the war were tucked into corners of the paper – the muggle attacks, the disappearances, the sudden unexpected illnesses and deaths of great wizarding names that Hermione had only ever seen in her history texts. Like their non-magical counterparts, wizards had a tendency to turn a blind eye to that which did not fit into their comfortable worldview. Hermione would have said it was endemic to all of magical society, were it not for the guarded and horror-stricken looks that graced the staff table as they, too, perused the _Prophet_.

"Anything important?" Lily asked in an undertone the Tuesday after the now-infamous Gryffindor welcome-back party.

Hermione gestured to a blurb about thirty murdered muggles, relegated to two square inches of print in a corner beneath ads for beauty products. ("_Ursula's Unguents! Use to keep your skin unbelievably soft!_") Lily gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed James Potter looking in their direction suspiciously.

"But that's horrid!" Lily cried out before Hermione shushed her. "How could they possibly care so little for their fellow humans?"

Hermione, well aware of the recent end to the American Vietnam war, simply let the comment pass. Humans, magical and not, were very good at only seeing what they wanted to.

* * *

Breakfast on Hogsmeade weekends were always lively, but none more so than today's. Sirius allowed himself to bask in the jovial atmosphere, sneaking glances at Hermione where she sat further down the table with her dorm-mates. She was going on a date with _him_ today; she'd be on his arm for the whole of Hogwarts to see!

Sirius was wearing some of his Muggle clothes that he had purchased with James and Lady Potter on a trip to London (despite the lady's objections – she just did _not_ know what was wrong with children these days). He thought he looked rather cool in his heavy jeans and soft black sweater with the v-neck that showed the beginning of some very manly chest hair.

Hermione was wearing an equally Muggle get-up, with some more of those tight-fighting pants and a dark green long-sleeve shirt. Her lovely curly hair was free, and the sparkle in her brown eyes caused Sirius's breath to hitch in his chest.

James was too preoccupied being nervous over _finally_ going on a date with Evans to be annoyed with Sirius's obsession with his own date, but Remus had a twinkle in his eye and kept making comments that could be taken in a delightful number of ways. He seemed to be just as fond of Hermione as Sirius, though not in the same way of course, so he was firmly on Sirius's side. Peter was keeping to himself, much like he had been the rest of the year, but Sirius was too preoccupied to really notice.

Best of all, Lily had let slip to Remus that tomorrow was Hermione's birthday, the big 1-7, so Sirius had planned a little birthday surprise for Hermione at the end of their date.

It was a good thing he wasn't Padfoot, or his tail would have broken from the excited wagging he'd be doing.

In what seemed like no time at all, Sirius had Hermione's hand tucked into the crook of his arm and they were wending their way down the road to Hogsmeade, having foregone the carriages as the weather was fine. They discussed their classes and classmates, just small talk really, as they made their way to the village. It should not have seemed like so much, since it was just the kind of stuff that Sirius would have talked about with Remus or James, but Hermione saw things differently than he did. She was always asking _why_ a spell worked like that, or what would happen if a potion went just a little bit wrong.

That and the little warm glances she kept sneaking him were _not_ something he would have welcomed from his fellow Marauders.

Sirius was a smart bloke, but honestly sometimes Hermione's sheer intelligence was a bit intimidating. Fortunately, he was able to fall back on his not-so-inconsequential charm when his brains failed him. He had the witch laughing all the way to the largest all-wizarding village in Britain, happily pointing out the sights to her as they went. She had a queer expression on her face when he waved a hand at the Shrieking Shack, but he just chalked that up to the dwelling's undeserved reputation.

They spent an hour in Honeyduke's, followed by rather quick visits to Quality Quidditch Supplies and Scrivenshaft's. Hermione seemed uncomfortable with Sirius spending too much money on her, and in the back of his mind he started to worry about how much of his allowance he had spent on the actual surprise of the visit. Renting out a private room at Three Broomsticks for all their friends had not been cheap, but Sirius thought she would appreciate it. She seemed to miss all the people she talked about in rare unguarded moments – Ron, Harry, Ginny. Sirius had carefully tucked those names away in the mental folder marked "Hermione", highlighted and underlined. Everything she wanted to share with him was precious, if only because he could tell how much she hid.

Their date took a turn for the worse as they left Scrivenshaft's

"Sirius!" an imperious voice called, causing the pair to turn. Sirius's eyes widened.

"Oh no," he said in a low voice. "That's my cousin Bella."

Hermione had gone rigid and wide-eyed beside him. "Why is that bad?" she asked, voice trembling.

"Because my cousin Bella is a right bitch."

Bellatrix Lestrange approached them in all her glory – long dark hair shining, curvy body wrapped in robes that screamed "old money!", on the arm of her new (and rather dashing) husband, Rodolphus. Sirius had been in attendance at Bella's wedding this past summer, but they did not usually make a point to speak to each other. After the way Bella reacted to Andromeda running off with a Muggle-born, well, Sirius could not meet her eyes without feeling rage on behalf of his favorite cousin.

"How are you this day, cousin?" Bella asked, her eyes flicking between Sirius and his date. Instinctively, Sirius put himself slightly in front of Hermione.

"I am well, and yourself?"

"Oh, just out for a stroll. I have not been back to Hogsmeade for _ages_. It's so hard to get away from London or the Manor these days." Sirius nodded in a noncommital way, hoping to end this conversation as quickly as possible. "And how are you today, Miss...?" Bella trailed off with a significant look at Sirius.

"Forgive me cousin," Sirius said in his best pureblood voice. "May I present Miss Hermione Granger? She is a Gryffindor as well."

"Oh, well I'm sure we can forgive her that," Bellatrix said with what was probably intended to be a charming smile. Sirius felt Hermione shiver next to him, and she smiled weakly in return.

"It's a, um, pleasure to make your acquaintance," Hermione said.

There was a tense few seconds of silence, where Bella was looking almost hungrily at Hermione, Hermione was looking almost anywhere other than Sirius's relations, and Sirius's eyes ping-ponged between the two women. He got the distinct sense he was missing something year.

"I don't believe Sirius has ever mentioned you," Bella said. "But then, Sirius never mentions in polite company the _ladies_ he sees. Especially ones that have the audacity to wear Muggle clothes in a wizarding environment. Honestly, cousin, this _lady_ appears to be rubbing off on you in all the worst ways." Sirius stiffened.

"I can assure you, cousin, that Hermione is far more of a lady than you will ever be," he stated coldly. "And for your information, she transferred to Hogwarts this year. How could I have had opportunity to mention her before? And as for the rubbing-"

"That's enough, Sirius," Hermione said in a tight voice.

"Yes, she would have had to drop out of the sky in order for you to find a new girl to see, wouldn't she, Sirius Orion?" Bella snapped. Rodolphus cleared his throat, and Bella sighed. She put on the mask of a proper pureblood so quickly Sirius thought he might have whiplash. "Well, we shan't take up any more of your time. Good day cousin, Miss Granger."

Sirius and Hermione responded and glared at her as she sashayed away from them.

"You shouldn't have let her get a rise out of you like that," Hermione said quietly.

"What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed. "I'll explain later. Let's just get to the Three Broomsticks. I could use some Ogden's right now."

He took her arm as they went down the street. "Thought you were never drinking again?"

"Well, I think we can all agree this is an extreme circumstance. It's not every day one meets one of the most infamous..."

"One of the most infamous whats?"

Hermione tittered nervously. "Never mind."

* * *

Hermione was trembling with rage as they entered the Three Broomsticks. She _hated_ Bellatrix Lestrange with every bone in her body, and sitting on the irrepressible urge to hex her was difficult to say the least.

It figures that the first day she actually starts to have fun, that utter _bitch_ shows up. Sirius squeezed her hand as they wove their way through students and the older patrons of the Hogsmeade pub – he seemed to be nervous in a way that didn't have anything to do with their run-in with his cousin.

"Sirius?" she called as they bypassed all the open tables and made their way to the back stairs. "What exactly did you think was going to happen on our _third_ actual date?" There was just enough bite in her voice for him to turn around.

"Something wrong?" he asked as they stopped for a moment.

"I was just wondering when you were going to decide that one of these tables was quite good enough for us to sit down at? Unless there's something you're not telling me?"

"Ah, well, um," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "You see, well that is-"

"Because you _know_ how much I hate surprises."

"Even good ones?" he asked hopefully. "Say, ones that are parties where all your friends are present to celebrate the magical event that was your birth?"

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You... you threw me a party?"

"Come on," he jerked her towards the stairs. "You don't want to be late."

"But, but no one's ever..." Not even Ron and Harry had thrown her a party, in all the years they'd known her. Sure, they might have assumed that it wasn't her cup of tea – but for Sirius to throw her a party when she was feeling so out of her depth.

Up the stairs they went, Hermione still in shock. Sirius threw the doors open and the assembled Gryffindors inside simultaneously yelled "Happy birthday, Hermione!"

She did the only thing a smart girl could do. Hermione pulled Sirius to her by their still-joined hands and impulsively covered his mouth with her own.

Now, in every romance story there's that one moment when time stops, the heavens open in a shower of golden light, and angels sing as the two romantic leads find true love. For one moment, everything bad in the world quietly retreats into the wings and patiently wait for their cue to resume plotting in the background. The heroine's heart races, and the hero's very manly arms wrap her up in the strongest embrace ever recorded.

This moment was at once nothing like that and completely like that.

Hermione's heart did race, and Sirius did drop her hand to wrap his arms around her.

Outside, the people of Hogsmeade were surprised to see the gloomy September skies part and let a few welcome rays of sun caress the tired ground.

And, surprisingly enough, at that moment Lucius Malfoy had ducked behind a curtain to hide from his wife, who was on the warpath about something or other.

But the thing that struck Hermione most as the kiss grew, was the quiet in her mind. No stray thoughts, no background calculations or problem-solving, no thinking _what next_. There was just her, and Sirius, and the fact that he remembered it was her birthday.

* * *

"Spare us, please," James called out, raising laughs from the other shocked Gryffindors as Sirius and Hermione continued to snog, without appearing concerned about coming up for air. Lily half-expected him to make some smart comment to her about how _they_ should be doing the same, but instead he just looked a tad thoughtful.

Their date had been surprisingly tolerable, despite James' attempts to go over the top. It was thoughtful of him to have a picnic prepared for them, but it was in view of the Shrieking Shack so Lily had to deduct points for atmosphere. Conversation had been thin on the ground, though that might be due in part to Lily's tendency to shoot down any proposed topics.

"Have you ever been to Godric's Hollow?"

"No."

"Do you follow Quidditch?"

"It's worse than footie, so no thank you."

"What's footie?"

Once they were back around their friends, James had reverted to the prat Lily was certain he was. She was much more comfortable with that relationship than whatever he seemed to be trying to do. James Potter was a jerk, a pureblood whose sole interest in her had to be maliciously motivated. End of discussion.

Hermione and Sirius broke away from each other, looking dazed, and James immediately pushed forward to snag his best friend. He pulled Sirius away from Hermione bodily – the handsome Marauder was still staring goofily at Hermione, not even turning toward James as he was led to the other side of the room. The Gryffindor girls surrounded Hermione and led her toward a table laden with food and a specially-ordered cake (topped with an actual roaring frosted lioness).

Remus chuckled, catching Lily's attention. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, I just think Padfoot has finally learned to come to heel, if you catch my meaning." Lily rolled her eyes – the dog metaphors were getting just a bit too apt. "You don't agree?"

"I think no pureblood boy can change his stripes," Lily said, swigging her butterbeer. "And I don't want to see my friend get hurt."

"You make a lot of assumptions," Remus said after a moment. "I can understand Sirius, but what makes you think all purebloods are like that? Isn't that a tad hypocritical?"

"It's just what I've seen," Lily shrugged. "And from the few snippets of conversation I heard when I was still friends with Sev- with Snape, purebloods are only interested in Muggle-borns because we're _easy_."

"And you thought that Slytherins set the standard, did you?" Remus snorted. "Oh dear, no wonder James has had such a hard time convincing you he's serious." Lily glanced sideways at him.

"That joke is far too easy," she said, and they both started laughing.

"But really, he's crazy about you. Haven't you enjoyed this date at all?"

Lily shrugged, and Remus was pulled away into a Marauder conference. To tell the truth, she had been willfully _not_ enjoying this date. James was trying so hard, and she just... if she started enjoying herself, what would that say about her? What if Remus was wrong? What if she was?

"Lily! Come over here!" Hermione called, waving over to where they were getting ready to cut the cake.

_I'll think about that tomorrow._


	14. Conflict of Interest

A/N: Thanks everyone for the follows and reviews. I've spent a good amount of time outlining where _By Candlelight_ is headed, so don't worry about finding this fic abandoned at the side of the internet superhighway. I know where we're ending, what the major landmarks look like, and about 3/4 of the turns required. It's about as exact as googlemaps.

Review bait: The tenth person to review this chapter can request a short story from me via PM. Story of your choice, up to three chapters, and it has to be Hermione-centric without Ron as the love interest. Them's the rules, kids.

A/N 2: Edited for a tiny continuity error on 5/10. Next chapter should be up in a few days - I mean it this time!

* * *

September passed quickly into October, and Hermione found herself more and more at home in 1976. It was difficult for her to reconcile completely that she would never return to her time, or likely see her parents again, but she could content herself with the fact that one day she would probably see Harry and Ron again... even if it wouldn't be the same.

Though, seeing Harry was seeming less and less likely every day. Despite the fact that Lily and James had managed to not kill each other on their date in Hogsmeade, Lily was now determined to avoid James whenever possible. She ignored him in the hallways, sat as far away from him as possible in class, and escaped to the library with Hermione at every available opportunity. It was starting to get annoying, as it was cutting into the amount of time Hermione could spend talking to Sirius.

Or kissing him.

Or-

"Miss Granger," McGonagall interrupted, "if you would _kindly_ get your head out of the clouds and get on with transfiguring Miss Evans' nose, I would be most obliged." Hermione blushed and nodded, shaking off her Sirius-induced reverie and turning to her friend. Lily smirked at her.

"Someone was daydreaming," Lily sing-songed as their professor moved on.

"Really Miss Evans, do grow up," McGonagall called back sternly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at a still giggling Lily and waved her wand in response.

"_Homorpho Felinius,"_ Hermione intoned smartly, moving her wand through the correct positions. Where Lily's mouth and nose had been, there was now a lioness's snout. Hermione smirked as Lily's green eyes glared at her over a rather impressive set of whiskers.

"Very good Miss Granger! Five points to Gryffindor, though I do hope you can manage to pay attention for the rest of the class," McGonagall said, walking past them again. Hermione's eyes drifted over to Sirius, who was laughing with Remus about something. Their eyes met, and she grinned.

"Oh, I'll do my best." McGonagall sighed.

"I suppose that's all I can ask. If it's not too much trouble, please stay back a moment at the end of class." Her expression implied that, for Hermione's sake, it better not be too much trouble.

"Not at all Professor," Hermione said, though inwardly she was groaning. She had hoped to catch up to Sirius for a few moments before dinner, but it looked like that plan was shot.

After class, McGonagall handed her a sealed note. "I was instructed to watch you read that note and then destroy it before leaving the classroom. Please do not take too long."

Hermione opened the letter and read:

_Miss Granger,_

_After much thought, I have decided to accept your offer of assistance with a certain riddle. Those who also seek to solve it have received a tip that certain clues will come to light on Halloween night. I wish for you to accompany to meet with these other problem-solvers, with the understanding that it might take a few days of intense discussion before and after this most sacred holiday to make any headway. _

_Be prepared to depart by Floo from my office immediately after lunch on Saturday, the 30__th__. _

_As I'm sure you are aware, this will be a gathering requiring the utmost secrecy. Please make the __**appropriate**__ excuses to your housemates, as I will be explaining your absence to those on the staff who need to be made aware. _

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

Hermione read the letter three times to make sure she had it memorized, then destroyed it with a silent _Incendio_.

"Thank you, Professor," she said. "It seems as though I might be away from class for a few days starting on the thirtieth. Do we have any tests or papers due during that time frame?" McGonagall swallowed.

"No, Miss Granger. I will make sure Miss Evans collects any assignments for you during that time." Hermione nodded and rose to leave the class room.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall called to her retreating back. Hermione turned and waited, noting the saddened expression on her favorite teacher's face. "Are you certain that this absence will be... necessary?" Hermione smiled a sad little smile.

"Many things are necessary for the greater good, Professor."

* * *

On October 29th, Hermione and Sirius were walking out by the bridge. Their faces were reddened and hair disheveled from what had easily been one of the best snogs of Hermione's life, which was impressive given the amount of time they had spent doing that lately. Hermione knew she was using Sirius (though quite willingly on his part) to distract herself from the nerves brought on by going on another mission, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she was going to disappear for a few days.

"Sirius," a voice called from the other end of the bridge. The man in question stiffened, gripping Hermione's hand tighter as they turned to greet the Regulus Black. The younger brother jogged across the bridge to reach them quicker, breath puffing out in clouds in the late autumn air.

"Yes? What can I do for Mummy's favorite little prince today?" Sirius replied, voice even colder than when they had encountered Bellatrix in Hogsmeade.

"I had a letter from Mother and Father." Regulus handed a piece of parchment to Sirius. "They said to tell you that you are _required_ to join us at Christmastime. No hiding at Potter's this year."

Sirius read through the letter, eyes narrowing with each successive sentence, pausing halfway through the middle.

"How do _our_ parents know that I have a girlfriend?"

"Because I told them, of course. I figured they would be most interested in any potential candidates for the future role of Lady Black." Regulus's eyes darted to Hermione. "I'm afraid that your _girlfriend,_ however, will not be invited to our family gathering."

Hermione just smiled at him and held on to Sirius's arm a little tighter. He was tensing to strike his brother and she knew that wouldn't do any good.

"That's quite alright. Lily Evans has already invited me to spend the holidays with her family." Her smile sharpened. "Us Muggle-borns have to stick together."

Regulus, Slytherin-in-training that he was, knew not to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

Sirius was shaking with rage, but he finished the letter and calmly disposed of it with a whispered _Incendio_.

"Wandless magic already, brother? Well, I know you're a blood traitor but at least you're a talented one."

"Why you little-" Sirius broke free of Hermione's grasp and lunged at his brother. The Black brothers rolled to the ground, each trying to simultaneously punch and pull the wand from the hand of the other.

"Sirius, stop!" Hermione yelled. "Let him go!" Both Blacks ignored her, so Hermione took action. She flung her arms apart, her magic carrying the fighting boys away from each other.

"Hermione!" Sirius said. Without pausing, Hermione stopped their backward progress and kept them both hovering above the ground.

"Miss Granger, put me down!" Regulus shouted.

"Not until you apologize to your brother," Hermione said. "Both of you!"

"Hermione!" Sirius tried again.

"I can keep you both up there for hours without tiring. Now apologize!"

The Blacks, unlike other pureblood families, were not well-versed in persuasion. The Malfoys could convince a Knut it was a Galleon and vice versa. The Bones were renowned for their stirring speeches (which some said shook listeners to the marrow of their bones, hence the name). And the Potters, well, they were gifted statesmen all.

The Blacks just liked to yell until they were hoarse, take a deep breath, and then yell some more.

After five minutes, Sirius stopped threatening that he would never kiss Hermione again and started sulking.

After ten minutes, Regulus considered using the word 'mudblood' out of a morbid curiosity as to what would happen.

After twelve minutes, both boys were silent.

Finally, after thirty long minutes, Regulus broke.

"I'm sorry, Sirius." Hermione, who was sitting against the edge of the bridge with a book in her lap, looked up and to her left.

"I'm sorry, young Master Black. I don't think either of us heard that."

Sirius, who had found a way to recline in the air, sat up.

"Yes what was that Reggie?" Hermione shot him a warning look, but he continued to grin.

"I said I was sorry."

"For...?" Hermione rolled her eyes. She had seen this sort of behavior in the Weasleys too. It made her glad that she was an only child.

"For calling you a blood traitor."

"And are you just saying that to get down or do you actually mean it?" Sirius pressed.

"...I mean it." Sirius whooped in triumph.

"Alright, Hermione, you can let us down."

"Aren't you forgetting something, Sirius?" Hermione asked, flipping a page in her book.

"No, you said for Regulus to apologize. He has." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I don't know what I would stay with you for. I also said that you should apologize to him. Do so, I'm getting cold and it's almost dinner-time."

"And just what do I have to apologize for?" Sirius asked. Hermione gave him a look.

"I guess you'll figure it out in another half hour, won't you?"

"_Hermione_," Sirius whined.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"Fine. Regulus, I'm sorry I called you Mummy's little prince. I should have called you Mummy's _big_ prince."

Hermione screamed in frustration and threw her book down.

"Do you not understand what you're doing, Sirius Black? What all these insults will lead to?"

"No I do not, oh brilliant one. Please enlighten me," Sirius replied, crossing his arms.

"A war is coming, and families will be torn about by fractures far shallower than the one between the two of you. End it. Be a family, be united, or we cannot hope to stand against the Dark."

The Black brothers stared at her.

"You sound like Dumbledore," Regulus said unthinkingly. Hermione whipped her head around to glare at him.

"It's probably the only thing the old man ever got right."

She scooped up her book and turned towards the bridge, the two brothers still suspended in the air behind her as she walked away.

"Hermione! Come back! I'll apologize!" Sirius called out after her.

The brothers fell the distance between themselves and the Earth as Hermione walked toward the castle without looking back.

* * *

Lily watched Hermione as she read the _Evening Prophet. _A special edition had been delivered – apparently someone wealthy had died, leaving his young-ish son in charge of the family enterprise. Lily vaguely remembered Lucius Malfoy from his days at the school – he had been something of a mentor to Severus in the early, violent days of his induction to Slytherin house, and the two still kept up a correspondence.

"Anything interesting?" she asked Hermione, who shook her head.

"Nothing at all," she said, folding the paper and stuffing it into her bag.

"Uh huh. One of the wealthiest, most powerful wizards in Britain died today after a shockingly sudden illness, and leaves his rather young son to inherit the company. Nothing interesting at all." Hermione laughed, but refused to comment.

Hermione had been acting strangely the last few weeks – finding more excuses to spend time with Sirius, leaving Lily in the library by herself. Sure, she'd had more time to secretly meet with Severus, but she missed her friend. Tonight was one of the first nights they had eaten dinner together in almost a week.

"You know, for a Muggle-born you sure are keyed into pureblood politics," Hermione said offhandedly as she shoved her still rather full plate away. Lily shrugged.

"Severus knew Malfoy Junior when he was at school here," Lily said in a low tone. "I pay attention to that stuff, never know when it's going to affect me. Purebloods think they run everything anyway." Hermione glanced around at the other Gryffindors, who were caught up in their own conversations. Sirius and the other Marauders were down near the center of the table, discussing strategy with the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Hermione's favorite Marauder had arrived a few minutes after the girls sat down, and though he cast longing looks at his girlfriend Hermione was steadfastly ignoring him.

The other girls in their year were talking about some article in _Witch Weekly_. Lily watched as Hermione steeled herself for something.

"Remember that thing I didn't want to talk about?" Hermione asked. Lily stiffened and nodded. "Well, I want to talk about it. Tonight, preferably."

"Where?"

"Leave that to me. For now, let's go to the library and pretend that everything's normal."

Lily agreed, and the two witches departed the Great Hall. Both found it difficult to get any homework done with the conversation looming ahead of them, but they managed to make some headway before the bells chimed nine.

"Follow me," Hermione said, leading Lily from the library and toward the seventh floor. At a bare patch of wall she paused and walked to-and-fro three times.

"Hermione, what are you-" The appearance of a door cut off Lily's question, and Hermione pulled her through. They entered a room very like the Gryffindor common room, though smaller and done in gentler colors of pink and gold. The room didn't fit what Lily knew of Hermione at all, so she was surprised to see some of the tension leave her friend as they settled on the pale gold couch before the small fireplace.

"What is this place?" Lily asked.

"It's the Room of Requirement. It takes the form of whatever you need at the time, and fulfills all requests within the limits of magic." Lily looked around at the girly decor.

"So what did you need right now?" Her skepticism was clear in her tone. Hermione blushed.

"This is what my room looked like when I was a little girl, kind of. I didn't have a fireplace, but often wished I did. Our house was older and drafty."

They fell into silence as Hermione attempted to compose herself. Lily waited, somewhat impatiently. The seconds ticked by, and the tension rose. Hermione's breathing quickened, and she closed her eyes.

"Hermione," Lily said. "It can't be that bad." Hermione gave a sad little laugh and pulled back the sleeve on her right arm.

Lily gasped.

"Hermione..." She reached toward the hateful words carved into her friend's arm. Memories echoed in her mind, slurs heard in hallways and undertones in the classroom. The pitying looks of her friends, the unwelcome attention of James Potter... all of it stemmed from this hateful slur.

_Mudblood._

It was thanks to that word, honestly, that she had trouble in the first place. Back when she was just a little firstie, a few older Slytherins had pushed her down in the hall and called her that name while they ripped up her essay in front of her. James had come charging down the hall like the Gryffindor he was, braving the fourth-year hexes to help Lily gather her things and flee.

They'd hid in a broom cupboard, years before that could be a euphemism for anything, and in halting words James had explained the word 'mudblood' as best as any eleven-year-old could. Lily had cried, James had comforted her... and the next day he'd been shouting to the world that they were going to get married some day.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Hermione said, bringing Lily back to the present. "Well, at least not anymore."

"What happened?" Lily crossed her arms. "Did you do something stupid?"

"It wasn't my idea," Hermione said with a weak chuckle. "The enemy had a few of our friends, and Harry, well, he was brave enough and loyal enough to want them back. I got left behind when the plan went wrong, and someone thought it would be fun to torture the Muggle-born. I escaped, obviously, but my tormentor used a cursed blade. This _mark_," she spat the word, "is resistant to all glamours I've tried so far."

Lily shuddered. She heard whispers that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named marked his followers somehow, but she doubted their administration was as painful as Hermione's.

"There's something else I need to tell you," Hermione said. She bit her lip nervously.

"What is it?"

"I have to go away for a while. Tomorrow, actually." Lily's eyes widened in panic. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I'll be with Dumbledore."

"I thought you said we couldn't trust him," Lily said, strangely calm.

"I said _you_ shouldn't trust him, and I still mean that. But I know how to handle him, and this trip, well, it's necessary."

"What about Sirius?" she asked.

"What about him?"

"Have you told him?" Hermione sighed.

"He'd try to stop me, and then he'd just worry."

"If you're not here for a few days he's going to worry anyway."

"Well, maybe you can stop him from doing something foolish." Lily raised an eyebrow.

"And just how would I do that? In case you haven't noticed, he's a _Marauder_. They specialize in foolish."

"I don't know!" Hermione said, getting up from the couch and pacing. "I already don't know what's going on, just that Dumbledore said we'll be gone a few days. I should be back in one piece, I doubt he'll let me do much anyway. Just, just keep Sirius calm until I get back, yeah?"

Hermione had tears in her eyes, and she hadn't looked this despondent since Lily was first introduced to her in McGonagall's office. The redhead sighed.

"I'll do my best, that's all I can offer." Hermione smiled.

"Oh but you're Lily Evans. Your best is what others can only _dream_ of."


	15. Halloween Part I

A/N: Since they have yet to appear in my story in any way shape or form, it appears my muse is ignoring the whole Horcrux thing. I humbly submit that Lily used some ancient magic to keep Harry alive, and that led to Voldemort's wraith-state in their first year.

Longest chapter yet! I'm working on part II, which will be the end of Act I. That means fighting, death, and lots of other pleasant things.

Also, since I haven't said so yet, I feel it's imperative to state I'm not Jo Rowling and therefore own none of this.

* * *

Hermione glanced nervously at the Head Table, waiting for lunch to be over. Dumbledore had chosen to eat in his office, it seemed – or he was off doing something important. Either way, he was not there to indicate what exactly counted as the 'end' of lunch. Was it two o'clock, when the food disappeared from the Great Hall? Was it when she was done eating? Was it some other time that she had no way of deciphering?

Like she wasn't a bundle of nerves already. She'd been jumping down people's throats all week, apologizing moments later for letter her temper get the better of her. Lily kept shooting her little glances every few minutes, obviously wondering when she would be leaving.

Down the table from the two friends, Sirius was staring at her. They hadn't spoken since she walked away from him yesterday, and that was another thing that was eating away at her. What if-

_No, I can't think like that. Dumbledore was so reluctant to bring me along, I doubt I'll be doing anything interesting._

Still, it didn't hurt to be prepared. Her dragonhide boots were strapped firmly to her feet, her jacket lay on the seat next to her (beaded bag tucked into the inside pocket), and her wand was strapped in the familiar way around her right thigh.

Finally, she could take no more and rose from her seat. She exchanged a last glance with Lily, nodding at her friend, and turned to exit the Great Hall for possibly the last time. She exhaled slowly, walking past Sirius without glancing his way. She was almost to the doors when -

"Hermione! Wait!" Sirius called out from behind her. Hermione did not wait. She hadn't told Sirius where she was going, or that she was going to be gone for a few days. He would absolutely throw a fit, and she was already worried about being late to meet the Headmaster.

She kept walking and turned right outside the doors, heading towards the Headmaster's office. Sirius caught up to her on the stairs.

"Hermione, didn't you hear me calling out for you?" he asked, grabbing her hand. Hermione couldn't bring herself to turn and look at him, standing a few steps below her with what she was sure would be a fine set of hurt puppy-dog eyes.

"Yes I did, Sirius. But I have an appointment with the Headmaster, and I cannot be late," Hermione said without turning around, her voice slightly chilly.

"Please," Sirius said, "can we talk? It will only take a minute."

With a shuddering breath, Hermione turned to face her boyfriend. Again, possibly for the last time.

_Gryffindor courage, Granger. You can do this._

"Yes?" she asked.

"What did I do to make you so angry with me?" he asked. Internally, Hermione groaned. Yesterday had been a great example of her losing her temper for no reason. Knowing what she did about Regulus – namely, that he had come to regret joining the Death Eaters in her timeline and died defying Voldemort – she could not abide how Sirius treated him. Still, she understood he felt blindsided by their fight.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I know I might have been out of line yesterday," Hermione said, looking over his shoulder. "But I think that you're making a mistake by being so distant with Regulus."

"I'll have to disagree with you there. I know what my brother is, even if you don't. But there has to be more to it than that," Sirius said, climbing two of the steps that separated them. Now they were eye to eye, a rare occurrence given how much taller Sirius was than she. "What is it, Hermione? You know I care about you. I'm sure that if you just told me what I did-"

"Nothing, Sirius," Hermione said, meeting his eyes with a fake smile on her face to hold the tears in her eyes at bay. "Nothing, I'm just... I'm just having one of those weeks." Sirius still looked skeptical.

"Are you sure? Because-"

"Yes, yes I'm sure," Hermione said, using her free hand to dash away the tears from her eyes. This couldn't be the last time she saw him, she told herself. It wouldn't. "Now, I really must be going." Sirius squeezed her hand before letting it go.

"Alright, kitten. Will I see you later, in the common room?" Hermione smiled.

"Yeah, Sirius. You'll see me in the common room." Smiling, he pulled her in for a kiss, and Hermione shut her eyes tightly to stop the tears. She kissed him with all the feelings growing in her heart and then turned away, practically running up the stairs.

* * *

Lucius was excited and exhausted in equal measure. He thought he had known everything there was to know about running his family's company, and being the patriarch of the British Malfoys, but he was sorely mistaken. There were some things his father only passed to him via diaries (to be opened upon his death) – like the wonderful fact that Lucius had three illegitimate sisters, all living in the muggle world and all rather accustomed to a certain way of life. There were other things that he could have gone his whole life without knowing – like the affairs with Muggle women that led to those sisters' conceptions. And there were still other things that he was quite happy to discover.

Gazing around at the secret treasure of the Malfoys, Lucius smiled. Unbeknownst to all but the Malfoy Patriarch, there was a series of caves underneath the family seat in Wiltshire. Caves stocked to the brim with Dark objects that the Dark Lord would give his wand arm to obtain.

Lucius's smile grew as he left the caves and headed for the Death Eater meeting scheduled for this afternoon. He finally had a bargaining chip with the Dark Lord _besides_ his wealth and influence. He felt this put him on a much more equal footing than previously, if he played his cards right and kept his shields up.

The meeting was being held in the same dreary manor in the Welsh hills that the Dark Lord seemed to favor. Unusually, Voldemort had instructed him to enter the decrepit manor instead of waiting on the lawn as was the usual. Lucius was surprised to find that, while the house seemed like a hovel on the outside, within it was well appointed and clean. He followed the voices to a small, dark salon with several formal chairs and a roaring fireplace.

Lucius was surprised to see only six others present. It seemed he had finally achieved the longed-for status of "Inner Circle." The others present were his sister-in-law Bellatrix, her husband Rodolphus and his brother Rabastan, Augustus Rookwood, Antonin Dolohov, and Quentin Yaxley.

"Ah, Lucius, how good of you to join us," Voldemort said. "Please, take a seat. No need for formalities here." Bellatrix tittered a bit as they all sat on the uncomfortable chairs grouped around a low coffee table. Tea was set out, though none of the Death Eaters reached for it.

"Bellatrix, would you pour for us?" Voldemort asked. The high-ranking noblewitch jumped to obey with all the alacrity of a house elf. Lucius barely restrained his sneer.

"Now that this is properly civilized, we can begin," Voldemort said, sipping his black Earl Gray. "Delightful. Now, I have received intelligence that Dumbledore's so-called Order of the Phoenix will be moving against us on Halloween. They believe that we will be terrorizing a certain Muggle village during this time-"

"What village, my lord?" Rookwood asked.

Much to Lucius's surprise, Voldemort allowed the interruption. "Lesser Oakdown -it is about as significant as the name suggests. Dumbledore believes it to be important to me."

"But no such attack was planned..." Rookwood trailed off as the epiphany hit him. "Ah, I see."

"Well I don't," Yaxley muttered under his breath.

"Then allow me to enlighten you," Voldemort said. "There was no attack planned on that village specifically, however it would not do to disappoint the old coot. You see, I have been searching for many years for an artifact left by one of the Hogwarts founders: the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

Internally Lucius rolled his eyes. _Again_ the obsession with the school and its history!

"To what purpose have you searched for it, my lord?" Rookwood asked. "I thought the sword was returned to the goblins upon Gryffindor's death, as requested by the smith who forged it. That's how the legend goes, anyway."

"Yes, it was returned, but then it disappeared some years later and has not been seen since. As to my purpose, it is my own."

The seven Death Eaters nodded, unwilling to push their master too far.

"And so," the Dark Lord continued, "tomorrow night we shall journey to Lesser Oakdown and see what we shall see. Come dressed and prepared for battle." His reddish eyes searched the faces of his Death Eaters, finding only loyalty and anticipation. Bellatrix laughed, a true witch's cackle. The Dark Lord inquired as to what had her so entertained, and she was all too enthusiastic in her reply.

"My husband and I," she gestured quickly to Rodolphus, "were searching through the Lestrange family library and came across a most unusual curse. I believe that many of the Order were married using the old rites, my Lord?"

Voldemort nodded and indicated that Bellatrix should make her point already.

"Well, I don't want to ruin the surprise, but suffice to say that after they cross wands with us that they will sincerely regret that fact." The Dark Lord laughed and pronounced her a delight.

Lucius shivered.

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the Floo after Dumbledore, brushing ash from her shoulders as she took in the opulent surroundings. She knew from her time at Grimmauld Place that some of the wealthier families had rooms just for Floo fireplaces, rather than elsewhere in the house. Unfortunately when she had arrived in his office Dumbledore had not said where they were going, so she really had no idea where they were.

A young elf dressed in a pristine blood-red toga with a golden embroidered crest was waiting for them. "I's being Fimmy," the elf said in a high-pitched voice. "You's be following Fimmy now."

Dumbledore and Hermione obeyed as Fimmy led them from the room down a hallway lined with portraits. The hairs on the back of Hermione's neck rose as she gazed on familiar images of unruly black hair and stubborn chins.

"This is the home of the Potters, isn't it?" she asked Dumbledore in an undertone. The Headmaster nodded.

"Charlus has been kind enough to offer his home as a base of operations, given that the wards surrounding Olwyn House are some of the oldest and strongest in Britain." He gave her a sharp glance. "I trust that there will be no outbursts, Miss Granger?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir."

"I remember the name of one of the young men you trained with – Harry _Potter_. I wrote to myself that he was one of your best friends, that you nearly gave your life for him multiple times."

"Yes..."

"I implore you, Miss Granger, to only share knowledge during this meeting that could be acquired without knowledge of the future. Time itself hangs in the balance, and we can only change so much without destroying the world as we know it." Hermione's brow furrowed.

"I wish you would explain more sir-"

"We's here!" Fimmy announced, gesturing to an impressive walnut door before opening it. Dumbledore caught her elbow, preventing her from entering the room.

"I will enlighten you at a later date, Miss Granger. For now, consider it an order to only assist in matters of which you have academic and not _personal_ knowledge. Are we clear?" Hermione's eyes met the elder wizard's and she was slightly chilled by what she found there.

"Crystal."

Walking into the Potters' salon was one of the most terrifying things Hermione had done in the last few weeks. The eye of every gathered member of the Order of the Phoenix was on her, and unlike her time the Order was not comprised mainly of school-age teenagers. She recognized a few faces from old clippings of the _Prophet_, but two in particular stood out from the crowd of fifteen or so.

In a corner where he could see the whole room stood Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, years before he would be called such. For now, he was simply the most successful Auror in the history of the Ministry. A powerful yet paranoid man, he regarded Hermione with suspicion in his two matching (non-magical) eyes.

By the fireplace, deep in conversation with a red-haired man who bore a startling resemblance to Fred and George Weasley, was a man that Hermione assumed was Lord Charlus Potter. He had the same commanding presence as Harry, though a slightly more muscular build than his grandson. Beside him was the only other woman in the room, a regal black-haired woman of middle years.

"Greetings, all. I believe we should get started as soon as possible," Dumbledore said, gesturing to a large table with chairs set around it.

"Who's the girl, Albus?" Moody growled, not taking his eyes off Hermione.

"Oh, I do apologize. Everyone, this is Hermione Granger. She has volunteered to join our crusade against the Dark." Laughter greeted this pronouncement.

"She's a child, Albus," Charlus said disapprovingly. "Surely you must be joking." Sounds of agreement were heard from the other men in the room. The woman next to Lord Potter simply gave Hermione a measuring look. Hermione opened her mouth to respond, quite heatedly, but Dumbledore silenced her with a look.

"Miss Granger has information that will be vital to our cause-"

"How's that?" Moody asked, quickly crossing the room. _Guess he doesn't have the wood leg yet either._ "What could this little girl know? Unless..." He trailed off, squinting at her.

Hermione tried to stay calm, she really did, but she flushed from the attention. Alastor Moody in his prime was a terrifying prospect, and her eyes darted away of their own volition.

"Let's see her arms, Albus," Moody insisted. There was silence. "Your arms, missy, now!"

Hermione glanced over at Dumbledore, who nodded his approval. _Splendid. _

She raised the sleeve on her left arm, displaying the unmarked skin to the Order.

"If that's everything-" Dumbledore started, but Moody cut him off.

"Oh, so she knows which arm the Mark is given on? Pretty closely-guarded information there, Albus. Are you sure you haven't been Confunded?" Dumbledore gave him a cold glare, but Moody ignored it and turned back to Hermione. Lord Potter had come up on his other side, along with several others including the regal woman, and addressed Hermione.

"The other arm as well, young lady."

Hermione took a deep shuddering breath. She really _really_ hated Bellatrix Lestrange right now. Slowly, she lifted back the sleeve of her right arm. Potter inhaled sharply when he saw the words carved into her flesh, but Moody appeared unmoved. He whipped out his wand and performed some complicated motions over the scar.

Hermione cried out, the first sound she had made since entering the room, as pain flared in her scar.

"Genuine," Moody pronounced. He did not apologize, instead made his way over to the table. Hermione looked up into the eyes of Charlus Potter and saw the pity she so loathed there. She turned up her nose and quickly unrolled her sleeve, covering the hated words once more.

"Who did this to you child?" he asked.

"I cannot tell you, sir," she replied. "And my name is Hermione. Please use it." The woman next to Lord Potter chuckled, while Charlus looked quite put out.

"Oh Albus, where did you _find_ this young lady?" the woman asked with a laugh.

"She fell from the sky," Dumbledore replied in what was intended to be a flippant manner. Instead of responding to Dumbledore's non-answer, the woman held out her hand to Hermione.

"I am Lady Dorea Potter, Charlus's wife. It's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger."

"And you, ma'am," Hermione replied, taking the proffered hand.

Once everyone was seated the meeting got underway. Hermione found it just as tedious as the Order meetings in her previous time though there was even more uncertainty in the air since no one knew exactly what kind of threat Voldemort was – political or something worse. No less than five philosophical arguments broke out in the course of the first hour, two alone relating to whether purity of blood was a valid political stance. Hermione's hair was sparking with lightning by the end of the second discussion. Lady Potter caught her eye and shook her head slightly, indicating that Hermione should stay quiet. Hermione nodded, already intending to do so. These men had to know what she was, how she earned the mark on her arm.

Really, it was unbearably rude of them to discuss such a thing.

Unfortunately she was seated too far from Dumbledore to ask him to speed up the meeting, so she bit her tongue and endured. After all, she had known since she was eleven that some of those on her side were just as bigoted as the Death Eaters.

Finally, two hours into the meeting, Dumbledore announced that he had some interesting intelligence.

"It has come to my attention, through channels that will remain anonymous at this time, that Riddle will be searching the village of Lesser Oakdown for a relic tomorrow night. It is imperative that it not be found by him." Hermione raised an eyebrow at his wording.

_But it should be found, hm?_

"What relic?" Lord Potter asked.

"One that could change the tide of this silent war."

Hermione tried to keep her eye roll to herself, she really did, but Moody caught it anyway.

"Do you know what relic he's talking about, missy?" Moody asked, much to the surprise of the others. Hermione had remained silent and largely unnoticed (obviously, given the topics of discussion) for the majority of the meeting. Expectant eyes turned her way.

"I might have an idea," Hermione started slowly. When Dumbledore did not interrupt her she continued. "Legend says that the Sword of Gryffindor was hidden in that area by Gryffindor's great-great-grandaughter, Fiona, after it was used to behead her lover. She supposedly placed all manner of hexes and curses around the site, stating that no one would ever use it to harm others again."

"Didn't the goblins take back the sword after Gryffindor's death?" Potter put in.

"Yes, but Fiona's father requested the sword be returned for the purpose of the execution. I understand that Fiona became pregnant before they were wed."

"I remember this story from my childhood," Dorea said when it appeared that Hermione was done speaking. "Though I confess I considered it little better than an old wives' tale."

"Begging your pardon, but when I was a child I considered magic to be in the same category," Hermione said. "What is important in this instance is that Voldemort believes the story, and that the village is full of muggles and not magicals. If the Sword of Gryffindor is not there, as the legends suggest, then he will probably take out his frustrations on the town."

"Precisely, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes. "Which is why we will all be there tomorrow night."

* * *

Lily was at her wit's end and Hermione had only been gone a few hours. Sirius was sitting in one corner of the common room, James and Remus on either side of him. Peter was nowhere to be found, as was usual of late. The three Marauders were looking at a ratty piece of parchment.

"Where is she?" Sirius said, flipping sections of the parchment. "She said she would see me in the common room."

"When?" Remus asked, scanning a different section of the parchment.

"She didn't say, just that it would be later." He raised his head and met Lily's eyes from across the room. "Oy, Evans! Over here for a second."

Lily took a deep breath to steel herself before crossing the room and taking the empty seat across from the three boys. She had the uncomfortable feeling of those about to be interrogated.

"Where's Granger?" James asked, looking anywhere but at her. He had been avoiding her since their date to Hogsmeade, just like she expected he would. Now that there was nothing to chase, he'd lost interest. And that was fine, really it was.

Really.

"I don't know," Lily said. Hermione had only said she was going away for a few days, not where.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" Sirius said. Lily was taken aback by the worry and hope in his eyes. Up until now she had had difficulty believing he actually cared for her friend, knowing what she did about his reputation. Her eyes slid to Remus before she answered. His "I-told-you-so" expression was all the rebuke and encouragement she needed.

"In a few days," Lily said quietly. "She only told me that she was going somewhere with Dumbledore. I don't think she was allowed to say more than that."

Sirius shot out of his chair with enough force that it went crashing to the floor behind him.

"Why didn't she tell me?" he shouted. Lily cringed back.

"Because she knew you would react like this." Sirius gave a shout of frustration and left the common room at a run.

"Where's he going?" James asked Remus, looking after his friend with concern.

"I don't know, but I'll go after him," Remus replied.

"Good idea, you know how to calm him down. I think I'd just make things worse." Remus left, leaving an awkward silence behind.

"Why would you just make things worse?" Lily asked.

"Oh, are you talking to me now?" James retorted, venom coating his words. Lily shifted uncomfortably in her seat and James sighed. "He knows I don't really like Granger, so anything I say might be taken the wrong way. If I tell him not to worry, he'll hear me saying I hope she's dead."

"Do you?" Lily asked.

"No, I just wish I knew what she was hiding. I don't like secrets, Evans. Never have, never will. Secrets mean you have no chance of stopping the ax from falling."

Lily looked at James like she had never seen him before. "Not all secrets are bad, Potter. Some are meant to keep you safe."

"Some are going to get you killed."

"And some are none of your goddamn business," she replied heatedly, remembering the scars on Hermione's arm.

"Like why Granger keeps her arms covered at all times?" James said with equal fervor. Lily was taken aback – it's like he could read her mind. "Did she show you what she's hiding?"

"This would fall under the category of 'none of your goddamn business'-" She was on her feet now, towering over him for the first time in several years.

"Dammit, Evans, she could hurt you!" Now he was the one on his feet and shouting, putting them on the usual footing once more.

"Why do you care?" she asked. "When have you ever actually cared about _me_?"

"To answer the first part, because you're amazing Evans. I knew it the moment you helped me find my Transfiguration essay when I lost it first year. Don't you remember that?"

Lily looked away, remembering that moment just as vividly as the moment he came to her rescue. She had run back to the common room after lunch during their first week of classes, only to find James searching frantically for said essay. Having a few minutes to spare, she helped him look for it and had done her best to calm him down. When they found it beneath a pile of third-year books, he had flashed that goofy grin at her for the first time (and every day since).

"As to the second: The corridor. First year. How can you even ask that? I've always cared about you." Lily crossed her arms.

"You have a funny way of showing it." James ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"I've tried showing it every way I know how," he said. "I don't understand why you've never believed me, Evans. All those other girls, they were nothing compared to you." Several indignant gasps were heard around the common room, presumably from those 'other girls'.

"Well that's terribly unfair to them," Lily retorted. Honestly, what a cad! "How could I ever trust anything you did with me, then?"

James took a step closer to her, hope reigniting in his eyes. "Are you implying that there's still a chance to... _do_ things with you, Evans?" Lily rolled her eyes.

"Hypothetically, Potter."

"I'd swear any oath you asked me to, Evans. You know that."

Lily tried to look away from that, really she did, but his hand caught her chin and kept her eyes from leaving his. He had such beautiful hazel eyes – so many shades whirling together to make one crazy color that was all Potter. His face was coming closer, and her breath hitched. She was not entirely sure that she wanted to kiss him, but for once in six years she was not entirely sure she _didn't_ want that either.

"James! Come quick – Sirius and Regulus are getting into it!"

The moment was shattered by Remus's return. James turned away from her, and Lily broke from his hand's hold and flew up the stairs to her dorm.

Hermione's words came back to taunt her as she flung herself on the bed. _'Oh but you're Lily Evans. Your best is what others can only dream of.'_

_And I've made a right mess of things only hours after she left. Bollocks._


	16. Halloween Part II

Halloween Part II

A/N: Thanks to my husband, who came up with Bellatrix's outfit. He's my inspiration, especially when it comes to making up stupid things.

Apologies to anyone who took Latin in high school – I'm just working with the free translator on Google.

Also I realized, upon re-reading my own work, that Horcruxes are apparently part of it. I highly recommend that any other authors write everything at once so you don't suffer similar lapses of memory.

See if you can't spot the Deathly Hallows-inspired monologue towards the end.

And so, without further ado, the following epic action is for **DianneBaquiran**, who asked for it.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was enjoying himself thoroughly. _This_ was what he had signed up for – asserting the rights of wizards over the lesser races. The Muggles on the floor of the sporting goods store cowered and moaned about how they shouldn't even be here, they had business in York to see to, but he gave their whimpering less than a moment of consideration.

"I'll ask again," he said coldly, "where is the Sword?"

"I don't know anything about a sword," one of the men cried, blood dripping from his nose to the floor.

"Maybe you don't, but I'm sure you can tell us who does!" Bellatrix cackled, hitting the Muggles with another round of _Crucios_.

Lucius pulled out his watch – it was well past tea time. The Dark Lord expected them to have the Sword by nightfall, so that they would not be missed at the Dark Revel another of his followers was holding that night.

He looked out the window and counted the buildings – there were five more to investigate and they could not take this long with each of them.

"Time is Galleons, Bella," he said casually over the screams of the Muggles. "Perhaps we could speed things along?"

* * *

Hermione the lioness watched from the shadow of the trees as the villagers of Lesser Oakdown fled, their valuables tucked under their arms. The exodus began at dawn, when many suddenly awoke remembering elderly aunts to visit or business to be conducted in far-off towns. The Muggle-repelling wards the Order had applied to the town were working quite nicely. She was glad she had suggested it during the Order meeting the night previous.

"_Our goal is to prevent casualties in the local population, which might attract unwanted attention from Muggle authorities," Hermione pointed out. "Why not compel the Muggles to leave? If we start near dawn, the town should be empty by the time Riddle and his followers see fit to arrive."_

"_I do not believe that Riddle was arrive much before sundown on Halloween – when the magic from that holy day is the strongest," Dumbledore pointed out. "He does like to make an entrance."_

_Hermione barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes at the chuckles that sounded around the room._

"_Be that as it may, if he's half as smart as everyone says he is he will be sending scouts into the village early in the day to find out where the Sword actually is. Scouts that I'm sure will have no compunction killing for that information. It behooves us to empty the town as much as possible and be there to defend those that remain."_

_There was uneasy agreement all around, and Dorea Potter regarded Hermione with approval. _

However, the Muggle-repelling charms had not worked on the entire population. Those that had even a drop of magical blood were somewhat immune, and one could never rule out the odd Squib hiding in an out-of-the-way place like Lesser Oakdown. These were dark times for anyone who didn't fit Voldemort's hypocritical mold.

The tattoo on Hermione's hip, though hidden by her Animagus form, burned. She ignored Dumbledore's summons, keeping her eyes on the store across from the copse of pine trees in which she hid. Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange had entered the shop over an hour ago. She had spotted Quentin Yaxley stealing into a ramshackle building down the road not long after.

Her lioness's ears picked up the shrill screams of Muggles, and laid flat back on her head.

The tattoo burned more insistently, causing Hermione to hiss in pain. She really hated the bloody thing. Backing into the shadow of the trees, she shifted to her human form and Apparated to Olwyn House.

* * *

Dorea Potter carefully observed the young woman who entered the full parlor with fire in her eyes and surety in her step. Hermione Granger was much too young to look so old. A wariness in her eyes spoke of scars beneath the skin, scars that Dorea was more than familiar with in her own husband.

She smiled fondly at Charlus, though she doubted anyone would recognize the expression as such. (Dorea came by her Slytherin Sorting honestly.) He was a dear man, and she had gladly stood by him these almost forty years, but she thought he might be in over his head this time. Dumbledore was playing things close to the chest, acting more like a general than a comrade-in-arms. A general who held the lives of his tin soldiers too cheaply.

That's what the men and women gathered in her parlor were – powerful toys for Dumbledore to hurl at a student he had never liked. Dorea was old enough to remember Head Boy Tom Riddle, though he had been a few years ahead of her. Charming, handsome, brooding – he had led most of Slytherin House a merry dance during his years at Hogwarts. In his sly way, the young wizard had always implied that he would gain more power than any Slytherin before him. Being the smart girl she was, Dorea had never doubted he would... though killing all Muggles and creating a band of terrorists did seem to be an extreme and horrific way to go about it.

What Dorea could not comprehend was why everyone seemed so inclined to ignore Riddle's intelligence and ruthlessness. The men around her, and to some extent the women, seemed to regard this all as a game. Dorea read the newspaper; she had friends in her old Slytherin circles and the new, more mixed non-Slytherin ones. She heard of the Muggles who turned up dead for no reason, and the Hogwarts Board of Governors in their last report had noted the drop in Muggle-born attendance over the last five years. Did no one else think these things were connected?

"They're there," Hermione said as she dropped gracelessly into the chair in front of Dumbledore. Dorea signalled for one of the elves to pass the young woman a glass of water, which Hermione accepted gratefully. "They arrived as the last of the Muggles were leaving. They seemed intent on the shops near the north end of the village. I assume they have intelligence as to the possible of the location of the Sword."

The men around Dumbledore fell silent, leveling skeptical looks Hermione.

"Are you sure they were Death Eaters?" Ignatius Prewett asked. Beside him, his wife Eugenie raised a skeptical eyebrow. Hermione snorted.

"Positive," she said shortly.

"How can you be sure?" he challenged. Hermione sighed.

"Lucius Malfoy. Bellatrix Lestrange. Quentin Yaxley. Those were just the three I recognized. They were Death Eaters, torturing some Muggles for information, and if you _don't_ mind I think we should probably get on with retrieving the Sword or at least diverting their attention from the Muggle population!"

Dorea winced – Hermione's voice had gone rather shrill, and her hair was sparking a bit.

"Calm yourself, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, turning up the grandfatherly charm. Hermione's hair deflated slightly, though she was still glaring at Ignatius.

"My apologies, Mr. Prewett," Hermione said with barely restrained anger. "Hearing the tortured cries of those I cannot help does put me on edge."

Charlus coughed into his hand while both Prewetts turned as red as their hair.

"Peace!" Dumbledore commanded. "As Miss Granger said, it is best that we retrieve the Sword. I happen to know the location-"

"Then why don't we have it yet?" Charlus interrupted, taken aback. "We could have taken it last night and gotten one over on him!"

Hermione was regarding Dumbledore through narrowed eyes, but did not say anything.

_She's learning_, Dorea thought. There were plenty of reasons to allow Riddle to focus his energies on Lesser Oakdown, rather than elsewhere in Britain. Dorea was certain Dumbledore had his reasons.

She just wasn't sure she liked them.

* * *

Hermione trudged through the pungent mud surrounding the ramshackle stone well at the edge of the village. It smelled like bogs and pig refuse.

"Of all the hare-brained, cockamamie, _idiotic_-"

"You've made your opinion quite clear, Miss Granger," Ignatius admonished. Hermione fell silent, but she did not apologize.

It had taken over an hour of arguing and cajoling, but Hermione had convinced the rest of the Order to allow her on the mission to retrieve the Sword. the sun was quickly setting in the west. Long shadows covered the ground, cast both from the sides of buildings and the trees at the edge of the clearing where the stone well stood, lopsided and unassuming. Somewhere within its crooked depths lay the goblin-forged Sword of Gryffindor, a sword that only took in what made it stronger, the perfect weapon for destroying Horcruxes.

As far as Hermione could tell, Dumbledore had yet to impart that particular piece of information to the Order. She found that strange, certain that they would have been included in his future self's letter to the past (especially given the length of said letter). Wouldn't he have shared how disastrous it was to only tell a few people about the Horcruxes? Within the Order only Harry, Ron, Hermione, Snape and Moody had known; the children from necessity, as Dumbledore thought Harry was the only one who could destroy the Horcruxes, and the other two because they were paranoid enough to never divulge the secret. Surely Dumbledore had a wider selection of confidants in 1976.

Perhaps he was waiting for the opportune moment? Many things could be said about Dumbledore, not the least of which was that he had an impeccable sense of timing.

Hermione wanted to trust him, truly she did, but as she gazed into the dark depths of the well she had to question that instinct.

"_Accio Sword of Gryffindor!"_ Charlus Potter cast. Nothing happened. He shot a surprisingly boyish grin at Ignatius and Hermione. "It was worth a shot."

Hermione giggled. "I suppose, sir. But you have to remember, this is an object passed down from Godric Gryffindor. What did Dumbledore say before we left?"

Ignatius rolled his eyes, but Charlus gave it some thought. Hermione had the strange feeling that she was on a quest with Ron and Harry, not their grandfathers. Charlus snapped his fingers as he came to the same conclusion as Hermione.

"'_Where dwell the brave in heart!' _The Sword must be protected by wards that require an act of valor to unlock." Hermione nodded. In her time, Harry had retrieved the Sword while he fought the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.

Charlus glanced down the well. "I don't suppose either of you are afraid of enclosed spaces?"

Hermione shook her head, as did Ignatius.

"Climbing down there might be construed as an act of valor," Ignatius said. "It doesn't strike me as particularly safe."

"Oh, but surely a group of Gryffindors isn't worried about being _safe_," an all-too-familiar voice drawled from behind them. The three Order members whirled to face their opposition, and promptly started laughing.

Voldemort must have instructed them to blend in. Yaxley and Malfoy were dressed in predictable Death Eater black, though suits instead of robes. They were suitably imposing, framed by the trees and the setting sun.

But oh, Bellatrix.

Starting at the bottom, she wore saddle shoes with bright orange tops, a truly awful brown and yellow plaid skirt that came down to her pale knees, and a men's gray t-shirt with the phrase "Who Farted?" in large purple letters. The witch had topped this all off with a big forest-green floppy hat that reminded Hermione of one she'd seen many years ago on a beach in France.

The witch in question glared at them equally before she recognized Hermione.

"Look, it's Sirius's little plaything. Have you come to play with me, little witch?" She said in a childish sing-song voice.

Hermione didn't bother responding, she was too busy laughing; instead she shouted _Expelliarmus_ in her mind. Bellatrix blocked the soundless hex and shot back a Bludgeoning Hex, which Hermione dodged expertly.

"Well, it looks like the Mudblood can dance," Bellatrix laughed. "Why don't you take her for a spin, Yaxley?"

"With pleasure," the older man responded, smiling and showing his horrid yellow teeth.

The three Order members fanned out, their backs to the well, and took a Death Eater apiece. Hermione hoped they could defeat them before more showed up.

Bellatrix took on Ignatius, leaving Malfoy to fight Charlus. The late evening air was alight with spells and rumbled with the shouts of the older men – neither of whom seemed to be able to cast silently or _quietly_. Hermione was slightly appalled, but quickly focused in on defeating her opponent.

Though she retained enough situational awareness to know if one of the other Death Eaters targeted her, Her world narrowed to her wand and Yaxley. She had encountered this mental state often enough over the years to recognize it. Adrenaline pumped in her veins as she prepared to fight yet another Death Eater.

The knife in her boot quivered in anticipation.

Yaxley sent a Dark spell her way, a particularly nasty variation of the Boils Hex, which Hermione easily dodged. Though she had plenty of time to retaliate, Hermione opted to move closer. Not only did this confuse Yaxley, who was used to firing at a stationary and distant enemy, but it reduced his chances to curse her.

He sent increasingly Dark spells her way, either too stupid or too stubborn to move from his position near the edge of the clearing. She dodged them all. The snarl on his face grew fiercer, but his eyes betrayed him. They were wide with fear.

Hermione dodged a Blood-Curdling Curse and knocked the wand out of Yaxley's hand. Then she punched him in the face. Yaxley tumbled backwards, grasping his nose in pain. Hermione stepped hard on his chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"I know who you are, Quentin Yaxley," she said quietly. She cast a wandless and wordless _Protego_ as Malfoy sent a curse her way. The Dark spell sizzled out harmlessly on her shield.

"I know what you have done, and what you would do."

She removed the knife from her boot.

"I say _would_, because you will not leave this battlefield."

A yelp interrupted the inevitable conclusion to her little speech. Hermione to looked up as blood red light enveloped Ignatius before absorbing into his skin as he collapsed.

Miles away, at Olwyn House, the same light enveloped Eugenie Prewett and she too fell to the ground.

"No!" Hermione shouted, rushing over to her fallen comrade and forgetting about Yaxley competely. Bellatrix clapped her hands in delight.

"My Lord will be so pleased!" she trilled.

Malfoy and Charlus had paused in their battle, both mouths agape, as Ignatius writhed on the muddy ground and screamed silently. Hermione reached him and fell to her knees, grabbing his wrist to check his pulse. Her hands could not make contact with his skin – an invisible and unbearably hot barrier prevented her.

"Aw, did you think this was a game little girl?" Bellatrix said. Hermione rolled to her feet and faced the crazy witch, taking care to keep Ignatius shielded behind her.

Hermione glared at her but did not reply.

"Nothing to say, hm? Not surprised. A Mudblood like you should be congratulated on dressing properly in the morning, never mind actually speaking." Malfoy laughed, causing Charlus to remember they were in the middle of a battles and start hexing the man.

A crack off to Hermione's right told her that Yaxley had left the battlefield.

"It's too bad that the Dark Lord ordered us to kill you, if we saw you," Bellatrix said as she fired off a Killing Curse, which Hermione avoided with a graceful pirouette.

"You could ave been my pet! I could have trained you to walk properly-" Killing Curse, dodge, "talk properly-" Killing Curse, dodge, "_die _properly."

Hermione shot back a quick _Expelliarmus_, attempting to distract Bellatrix while also moving closer to the well.

Surely fighting a battle against the forces of evil counted as an act of valor... right?

"And after we've taken care of you, we'll get that blood-traitor Potter," Bellatrix continued with a mad laugh. "Poor wittle baby Potter will be left an orphan, ripe for the Dark Lord's picking. _Avada Kedavra!_"

Hermione ducked and rolled, coming to her feet inches from the well.

"Not going to happen," Hermione spat.

"So going to happen," Bellatrix replied with a smile. "They say baby Potter was the product of a Dark ritual, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if he was already asking to join the Dark Lord."

Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"He's in love with a Muggle-born, you twit," she said. "And I have it on good authority that they will get married and have a child and be deliriously happy."

"Whose authority, you stupid Mudblood?" Bellatrix shot another Killing Curse at her, which Hermione side-stepped.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and steeled her soul. She was both looking forward to and dreading what she was about to do. It was a piece of Dark magic she uncovered during her research so long ago at Grimmauld Place, one she never thought she would have cause to cast. But, the righteous anger and protective instincts boiling in her blood could not be denied.

"Mine."

She sent a string of Bludgeoning Hexes at Bellatrix, using them to shatter the shield the older witch hastily erected. After the sixth powerful and silent hex the shield collapsed, and Hermione swiftly cast the Blood-Freezing Curse. Bellatrix was not as swift as Hermione, and unable to dodge the younger witch's curse. She cried out in pain before collapsing to the ground, all the blood in her body frozen in an instant.

"_Bombarda Maxima,_" Hermione whispered.

Bellatrix's body shattered into a thousand frozen, meaty pieces. The force of the spell also left quite a large hole in the ground.

"That was for Neville, you bitch."

"Sweet Merlin," a voice breathed behind her. Hermione whirled, leveling her wand at Malfoy. He regarded her with something akin to terror before Apparating from sight. She took a deep breath before lowering her wand.

Not giving herself time to think about what she had done, Hermione quickly made her back to Ignatius. He was twitching on the ground, moaning in pain and completely unresponsive to her attempts to rouse him. Casting some quick diagnostic spells, she could find nothing wrong with him.

"What's wrong with him?" Charlus asked warily from behind her.

"Nothing physically," Hermione said, frustrated and a little drained from using Dark magic. It did not come naturally to her.

"Something magically then?" Charlus ventured. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

"You are brilliant, Lord Potter." Hermione cast several spells, each returning the same result: Ignatius's magic was slowly draining from his body. She just couldn't discern where it was going. Hermione growled in frustration.

"We need to get him to the Order, immediately, but I don't know how we can Apparate him if we can't touch him!"

"What about the Sword?" Charlus asked, looking around like it would appear out of thin air. "We can't go back without-"

"Hang the sword! He's going to die if we don't get him to a Healer immediately."

Charlus hurriedly dug in his pockets and removed a piece of paper.

"_Portus_," he cast on the paper before holding it out to Hermione.

"I should have thought of that," she said, grasping the invisible shield around Ignatius before touching the paper. Nothing happened.

"What the-?"

"Ah yes," a sibilant voice called from the edge of the clearing. "Anti-Portkey wards. Can't have you little Phoenixes flying back to the nest, after all." Hermione's blood ran cold. The last time she heard that voice was on the grounds of Hogwarts, more than twenty years in the future.

Charlus turned on the spot, landing on his rump as Voldemort laughed.

"Anti-Apparition too, I'm afraid."

"Riddle," she said lowly, glaring at the red-eyed man crossing the mud. He looked more normal than he did in 90's, which made sense given he was in his own body and not some magical construct of his father's bone and Harry's blood. His eyes gave him away though – they were completely devoid of human feeling.

"Lord Potter," Riddle said with a bow. "How lovely to see you here."

"The feeling isn't mutual," Charlus said, taking a step closer to Ignatius's body. Voldemort ignored the barb and turned his attention to Hermione

"Miss Granger," the Dark wizard replied with a charming smile. "I have heard much about you. What a _delight_ to meet you in person."

Hermione remained silent, calculating. Riddle moved toward them, pausing when he stepped on something hard embedded in the mud.

"Ah," he hissed. "I take it this is all that remains of the lovely Bellatrix?" Hermione did not answer, though Charlus's eyes darted to her. As Riddle bent to examine the scattered pieces of his loyal follower, Hermione took advantage of his momentary distraction.

"Can you distract him for a bit?" she asked Charlus under her breath. He glanced at her skeptically.

"Why? Are you going to bomabard him into tiny bits too?"

"No, wouldn't do much good at this juncture. Just keep him busy."

"This is fascinating, Miss Granger. Whatever did you do?" Voldemort called.

"Very well," Charlus said, before shooting a hex at Voldemort. He blocked it with one raised hand, and raised his head. Suddenly, the evil wizard looked a lot more snake-like.

While Charlus kept Voldemort busy with hexes and curses, she cut her palm and let her blood drip on the muddy ground around Ignatius. _Now that's mudblood_, she thought wryly as she used her finger to inscribe the runes in the muddy ground. It took all of two minutes – when she looked up Charlus was sweating but mostly unharmed.

Using a spell, Hermione levitated the writhing Ignatius onto the runes. Now to get Charlus onto them.

"Hey shithead!" she called out, causing both Voldemort and Charlus to look her way. "Not you, Lord Potter. I was speaking to the half-blood bastard intent on destroying the world."

Voldemort was livid, no two ways about it. All good humor and seeming refinement dropped in an instant.

"You jumped-up little Mudblood!" he cried, charging at her with his wand blazing. She dodged, running to the other side of the well and leading Voldemort behind her. Charlus ran in her direction too, his face a mask of confusion. As soon as he stepped over the runes, she yelled the password.

"_Panthera_!"

With a gong-like sound, Charlus and Ignatius disappeared.

Voldemort spun around as light flashed, howling with rage. Hermione sent a curse at his back, but he dodged it easily enough. He spun again to regard her with wide, angry red eyes. She smirked at him.

"Aw, did I ruin your fun, Riddle?"

"How do you know me?" he bellowed, shooting the Killing Curse at her.

"Oh I know lots of things you don't, Tommy boy. Lots of big important things," she replied, shooting back a few curses of her own. "I know that you won't win. Ever. I know that you'll die a sick shell of a man, a tattered piece of a soul that no one will even pity. Death will rejoice when you become his plaything, you pathetic excuse for a man. And all the people you've taken before their time will torment you forever."

The rage in Voldemort's eyes grew as her speech went on. With a scream of rage he flew over the well and straight at Hermione, wand leveled and ready to cast green death so closely it could not be cheated.

On instinct, Hermione raised her hands to shield her face.

The curse never came.

After a silent moment, Hermione lowered her hands. Voldemort was hovering in the air above the well, frozen in time. Hermione's brows knit with confusion.

"Well, I'd say that qualifies as an act of valor," a lilting female voice said in Hermione's ear. With a yelp, Hermione turned quickly to see who had spoken. A pleasant-faced young woman, with long blonde hair and only a few years older than Hermione, was standing behind her. She looked perfectly normal, other than the golden halo surrounding her.

In her hands rested a familiar sword.

"Yes, not many have the courage to tell a man that powerful exactly what his power will get him. Fewer still are women."

Hermione bowed her head in acknowledgment. "Well, I am getting tired of fighting him. I've been doing it most of my life. I guess I had a lot of pent-up resentment."

The woman laughed. "That's one way of putting it. You have exactly five seconds from the moment I give you the Sword to dodge his curse and get yourself out of here before he kills you."

"You're giving me the Sword?" Hermione asked. The woman rolled her eyes.

"Circe, they told me you were intelligent. Yes, you performed an act of valor so now you get the Sword. Don't go giving it to anyone else until you're done with it, though. Once given away, the Sword will not be able to return to you fully again."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you should hang on to it until whatever you need it for is completed, silly girl. Don't trust anyone with it unless you're prepared for it to vanish down the well again."

Hermione nodded and reached for the sword.

"Remember, five seconds," the woman said.

"Right."

_Five_

Hermione gripped the sword and whirled to face the flying death streaking across the well.

_Four_

She dodged, rolling to the ground as Voldemort's curse went wide and he sailed over her head.

_Three_

She regained her feet, leveling the heavy sword at Voldemort.

_Two_

His eyes widened as she slashed downward with intent, disrupting the anti-Apparition wards around the clearing.

_One_

"Until next time, Tommy boy."

* * *

A/N 2: Yes I KNOW making Hermione's Animagus form a lioness is played out. Believe me, I wracked my brains for something else. She's a warrior, this Hermione. It makes sense.

Her patronus is a lioness too. DEAL WITH IT.


	17. Injured

Injured

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Life keeps getting in the way, but I know how this one will end so it WILL NOT be abandoned. Promise.

Leave a review if you feel so inclined!

* * *

Sirius's face hurt (no specific part, just the whole thing). He should be surprised that his little brother knew that many curses, but he had been through the same lessons as Regulus. He was more surprised he'd held back.

_When Evans told him about Hermione's departure, he lost it. What if she never came back? Visions of her dead or dying swam before his imagination, each more graphic than the last._

_He had no destination in mind when he ran from Gryffindor Tower, but he tore through the castle at a breakneck speed. Somewhere on the fifth floor his mind caught up with his feet, and he decided to go down to the main gates. _

_Maybe she was back already. _

_He upset more than one student's pile of books in his desperation to get outside, sliding down the banister of the main stairs to bypass a group of Hufflepuff fourth years heading to the Great Hall for dinner. Three girls shrieked as he sped past them, but he ignored them. _

_The main doors were closed, and his agitated magic forced them open. The cold October air shocked his lungs, but he didn't slow down. All his thoughts were of Hermione as he ran down the gently sloped lawn to the main gates. He found them locked. Howling like his Animagus form he pounded his fists on the gates, unaware of the person approaching behind him._

"_Sirius?" Sirius spun around, eyes wild._

"_What do you want, Reg?" _

"_What's wrong? You seem a tad-"_

"_She's gone. Hermione left with the Headmaster and before she did she kissed me like it would be the last time..."_

Damn it he was **not **going to cry.

_Regulus's eyes widened. "She left with the Headmaster? Why would she leave?"_

"_Why would she leave? __**Why would she leave?**__ To fight that madman you're so enamored of, little brother."_

_Regulus did not gasp, or in any way show his surprise. Sirius continued, uncaring of his audience or the tears trickling down his face._

"_My girlfriend has gone off to fight Voldemort, and I'm supposed to sit here like a good little boy until she comes back to me – in pieces or otherwise." His gaze sharpened, hatred for his brother and all other pureblood bigots boiling in his blood. "She's gone off to fight pieces of shit like you who don't think she's good enough for her wand."_

_Regulus backed away, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Now, Sirius, you know I like Hermione. She's alright-"_

"_For a __**Mudblood**__? Is that what you were going to say, little brother?"_

_Sirius's fist collided with Regulus's face, causing the younger Black to cry out in pain. _

"_After how nice she's been to you, after the way she tried to get us to get along, you still see her as something lesser than you! Well, I have an owl for you, Reggie, she's worth ten of you!" Smash. "A hundred!" Smash. Smash. "All of you, she's worth all of you."_

_Sirius was weeping now, eyes so blurred with tears he did not see Regulus's wand as it flashed in the growing dark. Several hexes hit his face, throwing him back against the gates._

"_I know she is, Sirius," Regulus said as Remus pushed past him. "I know, brother."_

From there Remus had helped Sirius to the hospital wing, where he listened to a long lecture from McGonagall without talking back or trying to charm his way out of punishment. She looked sympathetic for a fleeting moment before assigning him a detention on Halloween – he would miss the feast while he scrubbed down Slughorn's cauldrons, but unless Hermione arrived then he couldn't bring himself to care.

That was days ago, three days ago to be precise, and there was no word on when Hermione would return. Each day saw Evans' face pinch a bit more with worry, an increase in James' and Remus' agitation (though for different reasons), and well, Sirius withdrew more and more.

Hermione had brought something into his life that was missing before: hope. He couldn't imagine what would he would do if Dumbledore returned without her.

So Sirius waited and pined and brooded, keeping one eye on the Map.

* * *

The Sword of Gryffindor hung heavy at Hermione's waist, bumping against her outer thigh as she moved about the room tending to the injured scattered across the Potter's ballroom. The groups of robed and bleeding wizards looked attendees for a Halloween costume party, except there was no punch or dancing. Instead of flirting or drinking, the young men and women (mostly men) around Hermione were intent on reassuring each other they had made it through the first major skirmish with Death Eaters. The tang of celebration in the air was soured by the Dark magic seeping from the dozens of wounded, and the Prewett's screams from the locked anteroom at the end of the ballroom.

Hermione was exhausted, but she couldn't go to bed just yet. There were so many injured, so many who needed her help specifically. Rarely had she been grateful for the hours spend poring over Dark texts, but given the wide variety of rare curses currently afflicting the Order's warriors she knew it was worth it.

Hermione waved her wand in a complicated patter and finished healing the blonde young woman in front of her. She whispered his thanks before exiting the ballroom, and Hermione sat back to catch her breath.

Of course, there was plenty she did not know. Her eyes cut to the anteroom. She could do nothing for them, even though she was present when Bellatrix cast the curse that incapacitated Ignatius. She had been so absorbed in her one-sided conversation with Yaxley that she had not heard the spell Bellatrix used, and Charlus had been similarly occupied with Malfoy.

She almost regretted killing Bellatrix – now they might never know what was wrong with the Prewetts.

"Are you going to worry over things you can't control or heal my leg, girl?" A voice growled from behind her. Hermione jumped, pulled from her reverie, and spun to face Alastor Moody. He was sitting on a chair far too elegant for the situation, it's gold and red upholstery shining reprovingly against his battered black robes. His leg stuck out at an odd angle, and was covered in pulsing red wounds.

Hermione made a face.

"Don't worry, it feels worse than it looks," Moody said.

"It looks terrible."

"Exactly, missy. So, if you don't mind..." he trailed off and gestured to his leg.

"Sorry, Auror Moody," she said, kneeling to heal his injured leg. She was surprised he had been injured at all.

"Bastard came out of nowhere," Moody said, reading her expression accurately. "Still, better my leg than where he was aiming."

"Which was?" Hermione asked, sealing up the wound.

"My chest. Terrible aim, if you ask me."

Hermione chuckled a little bit before sheathing her wand and standing. "Well, it sounds like 'constant vigilance' paid off then, sir. I'm glad you survived. This was a nasty one."

"Takes more than a scratch to lay old Moody low." Hermione turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm. "Besides, if I were dead it would be difficult to find out how exactly you got that fancy sword strapped to your waist."

Hermione looked down at the hand on her arm. She raised an eyebrow, but he didn't let her go.

"I'd rather only tell the story once, if you don't mind, sir. Can it wait until Dumbledore graces us with his presence?" Moody scowled at her.

"Dumbledore is a great man-"

"Of course he is, sir."

"Then why the sarcasm? Got a little Death Eater in you after all? You must have, to have survived a fight with Bellatrix Lestrange."

"Charlus survived."

"Yes, and he's married to a Black. Knows all about the Dark Arts, I'd expect. It's how he got his son after all." He chuckled unpleasantly.

"Leave James out of this." She might not like the berk, but it was rude to talk about people's parents.

Moody raised an eyebrow. "So, you are at Hogwarts then. I wondered where Dumbledore was hiding you. Resent him for that, do you?"

Hermione managed to wrench her arm from Moody's grasp, and glared at him.

"I resent him for a great many things, but I am as dedicated to this cause as anyone. I ha- would give my life to see the Dark Lord ended. If you believe nothing else about me, believe that." They glared at each other for a few moments before a commotion at the entry to the ballroom broke their concentration.

"Speak of the devil," Hermione said under her breath as Dumbledore swept into the room. Unlike those around him, his purple robes with the silver moons were immaculate. His long white hair flowed down his back and front, and his blue eyes twinkled somberly (_How is that even possible?_) as he gazed about the room.

His eyes found Hermione's quickly, and they exchanged small nods of acknowledgment. He did not approach her immediately, instead he offered words of encouragement and thanks to those he passed before finally entering the anteroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he exited with the grim-faced Potters. Most of the younger Order members, those who had not been at the planning meeting the day before Halloween, had left once their injuries were healed. The Prewett twins, Gideon and Fabian, had remained behind of course. They were huddled together in a corner, talking quietly.

Hermione wished she could leave. She had reached that strange point of exhaustion where one feels more awake than ever. Colors and sounds were sharper, her hands were trembling, and she sensed she was only a few hours from complete collapse. But, she had to stay and deliver her report to the Order.

Then maybe Dumbledore could take her back to Hogwarts.

"It is with a heavy heart that I inform you of the death of Ignatius and Eugenie Prewett," Dumbledore said to the Order members who remained in the room. Gideon and Fabian did their best to appear stoic, with limited succeess. "It appears that the Death Eaters have found a way to attack the magical core itself, and whatever is attached to it."

Gasps of horror resounded from the group. Magical marriages resulted in a permanent bonding of cores – hence the lack of divorce in the magical world. To attack such an integral part of a wizard or witch was almost worst than using the Killing Curse.

"It is imperative that we discover what this spell is and who else knows how to cast it," Dumbledore continued. Charlus cast a concerned glance at Hermione, and she guessed he had already related to Dumbledore the events at the well.

"Can we not just seek out the original caster?" Moody asked. Dumbledore shook his head.

"I'm afraid the witch that cast this is dead. Isn't that right, Miss Granger?" Hermione paled as all eyes turned to her.

"Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange is dead." She paused to see if any other questions were forthcoming, but the others were silent so she continued. "There are three possibilities: she could have used a Black family spell, a Lestrange family spell, or one of her own creation. There are several Black relatives we can ask. The Lestranges are all Death Eaters. If it's of her own creation then I, for one, find it unlikely she taught it to anyone else."

Dumbledore nodded at her assessment of the situation, while the others looked at her wide-eyed. They weren't used to her rapid-fire breakdown of all possible scenarios the way her friends back in the future were.

Or they were surprised she had killed Bellatrix Lestrange.

She really hoped it was the former.

"Dorea?" Dumbledore said. "Perhaps you could reach out to your family?"

The tired witch shook her head. "I doubt that this is a curse designed by my family. Our fascination with the Dark Arts extends to blood magic almost exclusively, and its use in defensive spells and wards."

Moody's lip curled at the mention of the Dark Arts, but he held his tongue. Hermione was relieved – she liked Lady Potter, and did not want to see her attacked for her heritage.

"I will take your opinion into consideration, Dorea. Hermione, perhaps you could speak to young Mr. Black when we return to the school?" Dumbledore suggested. She gaped at him.

"Do you really think that's wise, sir?" Hermione said.

"I think we should leave no stone unturned," Dumbledore said. "Now, I think we would all like to hear your report, and Charlus's, on what happened in the confrontation with Tom."

While the others found seats, Hermione and Charlus moved into the center of the room.

"Are you well?" Charlus asked. "You look pale."

"I'm fine," she said, crossing her arms behind her back to hide the trembling in her hands. Charlus looked doubtful, but let it go for now.

The Order was silent as Charlus and Hermione recounted their experiences around the well. Charlus explained their initial attempts to retrieve the Sword and how the Death Eaters had appeared. He choked up once he got to the part about Bellatrix cursing Ignatius, so Hermione took over. She spoke dispassionately about how she had killed Bellatrix Lestrange with a combination of the Blood-Freezing curse and _Bombarda Maxima_, how Yaxley had escaped and Voldemort had arrived, how the woman had appeared and given her the Sword, how she escaped from the Dark Lord.

It took them almost forty-five minutes to get through it all, and by the end she was trembling from head to toe with exhaustion and stress. Still Dumbledore did not dismiss them. Instead, he turned his cool blue eyes on Hermione and asked for the Sword. She uncrossed her arms from behind her back, and took a deep breath to control the trembling in her limbs.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir," she said. "The apparition who gave it to me said that I should not hand it to another until I'm done with it." She placed her hand on the bejeweled-pommel. "And I won't be done until I sever Tom Riddle's head from his body."

"Really Miss Granger," Dumbledore started, but he was interrupted by the thunderous applause from the other members of the Order. Even Moody was clapping for her, respect etched in his weathered face. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to control her heart rate. The clapping was so _loud_.

"The Sword is safe, Albus," Charlus said. "I think Hermione has proven her loyalty to her cause. Let her keep the Sword until this is over."

"I think it unwise to have the Sword wandering around my school," Dumbledore said.

"Then I will leave Hogwarts," Hermione rejoined, eyes still closed. "I told you, I'm seventeen. The sooner we can start searching for Riddle's Horcruxes, the better."

Dorea gasped, covering her mouth with her hand in an uncharacteristic show of emotion. Dumbledore's face was a mask of shock.

"His what?" he said.

"His Horcruxes," Hermione said, panting a bit. "You know, pieces of his soul contained in objects? The things that make him less human and less killable?"

Dumbledore's shock increased, and the silence in the room grew heavier with each passing breath. Hermione re-crossed her arms behind her back.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know, sir, but I'm afraid that I'm a little tired at the moment. Would it be possible for us to return to Hogwarts?"

"Miss Granger-" Dumbledore started, but Moody interrupted him.

"The girl's dead on her feet, Albus. Take her back to that school of yours. We'll reconvene when we're all in better shape."

"No," Dorea said. Hermione opened her eyes in shock, and regretted it. "We'll escort her. Come, Miss Granger."

Lady Potter wrapped a protective arm around the younger woman, extended a hand to her husband, and Apparated all three of them to Hogwarts gates

* * *

Dorea kept a tight grip on Hermione as she knocked on the gates. The poor young woman had been through so much in the last few days alone, yet she was still on her feet. Dorea admired women with steel at their cores, and Hermione was as sharp as they came.

After five minutes, Hagrid made his way to the gates with a lantern.

"Lady Potter! Lord Potter! What 'choo doin' here in the middle of the night?"

"We're escorting Miss Granger home," Charlus said. "If you would unlock the gates, we'll escort her to the tower."

"Hermione?" Hagrid raised the lantern a bit higher. The light illuminated Hermione's exhausted and dirty features. "That you?"

"Yes, Hagrid," she whispered.

"What've they done to ya? Are you alrigh'?"

Hermione laughed weakly. "I've been better."

Hagrid unlocked the gates and motioned for the three to enter. Hermione stumbled, and Charlus picked her up.

"Really, Lord Potter, this is unnecessary," she protested in a whisper.

"Nonsense," he said shortly. "Can you stay with us to the doors, Hagrid? It's been many a year since I wandered these grounds in the dead of night."

The dark covered Dorea's uncharacteristic blush, and they made their way to the main doors. They were all shocked to find them open, but even more shocked to find a welcome party.

On the other side of the door was a rumpled, pale, and out of breath Sirius Black. There was a scrap of worn parchment in his hand, which he dropped when he saw them enter.

"Hermione!" Sirius roared, rushing up to Charlus and Dorea. Her eyes had closed on the walk up, but they opened at the sound of his voice.

"Sirius," she breathed, and he pulled her from Charlus's arms into his. He sank to the floor, cradling Hermione close as her weak arms encircled him.

"Where were you? I missed you so much," he whispered to her, covering her face in kisses.

Charlus and Dorea exchanged shocked glances. They knew Sirius's reputation – both self-proclaimed and the gossip circulated in pureblood circles. He was not the type to worry about any girl, and Hermione had not mentioned him while she was a guest in their home.

"Missed you too," she said.

Dorea cleared her throat pointedly. Sirius looked up, his eyes widening as he finally noticed someone other than Hermione.

"Hello, cousin," he said.

"Sirius," Dorea said. "Is that the proper way to treat a lady?"

Sirius blushed. "My apologies, cousin. I've just missed Hermione so much these last three days, and I didn't know where she was, and-"

Hermione raised a trembling hand and covered his mouth. "It's alright, Dorea," she said, not looking away from Sirius. "He's my boyfriend. He has my permission to do these things."

Sirius kissed Hermione's fingers as she removed them from his lips.

"Hermione-" Dorea started, appalled by the lack of propriety before her. It was one thing to do these sorts of things in a broom cupboard, quite another to do so in front of one's surrogate parents. She would need to have a serious talk with Sirius (no pun intended) – he should not treat a woman like this in public unless he intended to marry her.

"Let it go, Dorea," Charlus said. He slipped a comforting arm around her waist, with a look that promised they would talk about Sirius's behavior later.

To Sirius, he said, "I trust you can get her back to her House."

"Of course, Cousin Charlus," Sirius said. He tightened his hold on Hermione.

"To her _own bed_?" Dorea said, raising an eyebrow. Hagrid coughed, covering a laugh.

"Of course," Sirius repeated, a blush suffusing his cheeks.

"Take me home?" Hermione asked.

"Of course," Sirius said, smiling this time as he gazed down at her. Without sparing a glance for the adults, he turned and started towards the stairs.

* * *

Moody bided his time, waiting until the other Order members departed the Potters' ballroom.

"What in Merlin's name was she talking about, Albus?"

"Well, Alastor, it appears that Tom has done the unthinkable. He has split his soul-"

"Not that part," Moody interrupted. "The part where she asked what you wrote to yourself."

"Poor Miss Granger was just delirious-"

"Nice try, Albus," Moody said, crossing the room to stand in Dumbledore's personal space. "But I've questioned that girl myself. Something is going on here, and you owe it to us to share that information. Right. Now."

Dumbledore sat impassively, not appearing bothered by how close Moody was standing to him. Though the twinkle was gone from his eyes, he still smiled in that grandfatherly way of his.

"My friend, I ask that you continue to trust me on this matter. We find ourselves in a delicate situation, and the time is not right for all the curtains to be drawn away."

Moody snorted derisively. He respected Dumbledore deeply, but he had no illusions about the man's predilection for tugging on the puppet strings. Moody was a chess piece like all the rest of the Order – though a useful one, like a bishop – but he was uncomfortable and frankly peeved by the information Albus was apparently hiding from him.

"However, I will be asking Miss Granger about the Horcruxes at a later date. I will share what you need to know then."

"I don't like this, Albus," Moody said. "I don't like not knowing what's coming next in this war. We need to be prepared, we need to protect the children."

"I couldn't agree more," Dumbledore said simply. He made no effort to further the conversation, instead allowing the ensuing silence to indicate that the topic was now closed.

Moody growled and swept away, battered black cloak fluttering behind him.


	18. Up for Air

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating. Between holiday traveling, a second puppy (you know, our dog needed a dog of his own) and six-day work-weeks...

Eh, enough excuses. Thanks for the follows, faves, and reviews. For your reading pleasure, here's a bit of Sirius/Hermione plot stuff. I've written what seems like ten different versions of this chapter – the beginning of our third act – and I'm just washing my hands of it.

Hope you like!

* * *

For the first time since her arrival in 1975, Hermione did not wake with a scream. She roused shortly after dawn, her body one big bruise and the Sword of Gryffindor jabbing her in the stomach. She rolled to her right and suppressed a startled yelp. Sirius was next to her, fast asleep with his hair half on his face and half spooled on the pillow.

He was beautiful.

Hermione rolled her eyes at herself and settled back down next to him, pleasantly surprised when he curled an arm around her and pulled her closer. His fingers grazed the pommel at her still-clothed waist, long fingers pale against the ruby embedded there. Sirius was warm and reassuringly solid beneath her trembling hands, and his gray night-shirt absorbed the silent relieved tears that slid down her cheeks.

For three long days thoughts of Sirius were hidden in a strongbox, tucked away on a high shelf in the back of her mind. She had chosen to occupy herself in conversation with Lady Potter, observations of the depth of Moody's suspicious nature (he brought his own food and drink to _everything_), and contemplation of Dumbledore's odd behavior. The battleground was no place to get mopey because one missed one's boyfriend.

However, now that she was alone and the battle won, she allowed herself to dwell on his shiny black hair, his sense of humor, the way he always seemed to know what was bothering her and how to make her smile, the way he trusted her.

His kisses. Oh, Merlin, his kisses.

She smiled and stroked the arm wrapped around her. He murmured in his sleep and pulled her closer.

When she had looked her fill of him (which only took an hour, give or take) Hermione turned her considerable faculties to processing the last few days. The events of the Order meeting came back to her, obscured by a post-battle exhausted haze, especially her slip right at the end. The Order had cheered her declaration of intent, and wondered at her tale, but the mood quickly turned to confusion when presented with the unholy word.

_Horcruxes._

Dumbledore was unhappy with her, she was certain - probably as unhappy as she was with him. He had some nerve, asking her to speak to Sirius about Dark magic when he knew she would not be able to reveal her motives. He had ordered her in his letter, almost threatened her really, not to tell anyone when she was from because there would be too many repercussions.

_Like what__? The Order being better prepared? The prevention of unnecessary deaths?_

On top of the obvious reasons, it was clear Dumbledore had not known about the Horcruxes. What else didn't he know? How could he win the war without that kind of vital information?

She wondered for the thousandth time what he had deemed so much more important to share with his past self. Clearly it was nothing related to the war, or how to stop it.

_Well nuts to him_, she thought rebelliously. _I wished for a way to prevent the war, and no one, however powerful he may be, will stop me from doing everything I can to fulfill that wish._

Of course, there was the much bigger problem of how to tell her friends she was from the future. How to tell her _boyfriend_ that she was from the future.

Dumbledore was right (would be right?) - if she didn't offer compelling proof, they would send her away in a straight jacket. Or whatever the wizarding equivalent was.

She grinned. Good thing she had a bag full of memories to back her up. All she wanted was the opportune moment.

Feeling much better about herself, Hermione snuggled into Sirius and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Elsewhere in the castle, Dumbledore pored over the letter from his future self. His venerable eyebrows twitched in annoyance as he read the word "Horcruxes" underlined in red.

"Merlin's saggy left nut," he said, throwing the letter down on the desk. "What a pickle."

* * *

Almost no one said anything about Hermione's mysterious absence from Hogwarts. The exception was James Potter, who, when she entered the common room on the evening of her return, loudly asked where she had been. He was affronted when she said it was none of his business, but didn't push the issue. Instead, he had rather childishly appealed to Sirius to, "control his woman."

"Think you don't understand our relationship, mate," Sirius had replied, slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "You've seen this woman with a wand. Who do you think wears the pants?"

That had provoked laughs from around the common room, and led to a rather dramatic and curse-filled exit on James's part. The two former best friends had not spoken since, and Hermione took a moment here and there to feel bad about being the source of their discord.

"You should really talk to him," Hermione urged Sirius on one of their walks around the lake. Remus and Lily had joined them despite the cold– neither of them were speaking to James either.

"About what?" Sirius asked, not meeting her eyes.

"Do I have to do what I did to you and Regulus?" Hermione asked, slowly reaching for her wand. Sirius dropped her hand and backed away quickly.

"Merlin, no! I had to piss fifteen minutes in last time."

"Language," Hermione said, failing to conceal her grin. Lily and Remus looked intently between the two of them.

"What happened last time?"

"What happened is this little witch is far too clever for her own good," Sirius said, picking up Hermione and spinning her around. She laughed, and he knew she was not truly mad at him.

"If he apologizes to you, I'll talk to him," he whispered as he set her back on her feet. Hermione gave him a stern look.

"What are the chances of that happening?" she asked, just as quietly.

"Given that his parents were the ones to return you from wherever you were, I'd say pretty good."

Hermione blushed. "I'd almost forgotten you were there when they returned me. Merlin, I was exhausted."

"What had you so tired?" Remus asked, innocently enough. Hermione averted her eyes, hating that she had to lie to her friends.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. But, I was awake for almost two straight days. It was most unpleasant."

Remus snorted, but Lily looked worry.

"I can't believe that Dumbledore-" Hermione silenced her friend with a wide-eyed stare. Remus looked back and forth from one to the other.

"Can't believe that Dumbledore what?" he asked.

"...wore those robes this morning," Lily finished lamely.

"I rather liked the little dragons. I think there was actual smoke coming from their nostrils," Sirius said, attempting to divert the conversation away from Hermione's mysterious disappearance. She smiled slightly at him, grateful to have him in her life.

It was a week after her return that Hermione received a letter from Dorea Potter. It was short and to the point:

_Hermione_,

_Charlus and I have been fretting over you since we returned you to Hogwarts. Well, I have been fretting. Lord Potter insists that Lord Potter does not fret, but you know how men can be._

_Please write back to let us know that you have recovered from your Ordeal._

_R__é__pondez-moi, vite,_

_Lady Dorea Potter, n__é__e Black_

_P.S. Also, I must inform you that I have written to Sirius regarding his forward behavior. I hope that he intends to marry you, my dear, otherwise I will be forced to reprimand him. _

Hermione paled, and Sirius asked if she was alright.

"Apparently Lady Potter is going to write to you to make sure your intentions towards me are honorable."

Sirius nonchalantly reached for another piece of buttered toast.

"I received an owl from her yesterday, and sent my response."

Hermione glanced at him, annoyed that he hadn't told her.

"And what did you say?"

Sirius grinned as he contemplated his chosen slice.

"Of course I'm _serious_."

Hermione swatted at him with her other hand, the indignation on her face every bit as faked as his nonchalance. They both knew what they weren't saying, and as he wound his fingers between hers beneath the table she knew one thing: one of her opportune moments had arrived.

* * *

Sirius was confused as to why Hermione was dragging him from the tower to the seventh floor, but he couldn't complain too much. He was so grateful that she was back, that he could see her and touch her and smell her and kiss her, that he would not scoff at any stolen tête-à-tête.

Perhaps there was a broom closet up here she wanted to use.

When they reached the seventh floor corridor, the one that didn't have any doors along it, Hermione paused and Sirius grew puzzled. _Not a broom closet then._

The beaded bag hanging from her other wrist swung and hit the wall with a loud clang.

"What's in the bag?" he laughed. She ignored him and he started to get a little worried.

Still holding his hand, Hermione paced back and forth three times before the blank wall. Sirius did his best to contain his surprise and questions, but he was starting to get a little worried.

"Hermione what are you-"

"I'm concentrating," she snapped.

When a door appeared in the wall he swore.

"Language," Hermione said as she opened the door and dragged him into the room beyond. It appeared to be a living room, done in calming sage and white, with a brown couch and a small fireplace. The window on the far wall did not show the Hogwarts grounds, instead it gave on to an unfamiliar but distinctly Muggle neighborhood.

To say that he was surprised would be an understatement.

"Hermione, where are we?" Sirius asked.

"This is the Room of Requirement," she said as she pulled him to the beige couch. "It takes on the form of whatever you need it to be. Sometimes it's a training room, sometimes it's a library, sometimes it has hundreds of chamber pots-"

"And sometimes it's a turns into random Muggle parlors?"

Hermione blushed. "This is what the living room in my parents' house looked like. Sit?" She gestured for him to take the seat next to her on the couch.

The mood turned awkward and expectant as he obeyed, watching her for some indication of what they were doing here. She fiddled with the ties of her bag, eyes darting around the room.

He took a seat next to her. "Looked like?" he

"Yesah, they were killed by Death Eaters when I was twelve. I haven't seen this room in years."

"Oh, Hermione," he said, gathering her close. "You never told me that." He said nothing, simply taking her hand and waiting for her to gather her thoughts. Eventually, she spoke again.

"There's a lot of things I haven't told you. Lots of things I didn't think I was allowed to tell you, things I probably shouldn't tell you because..." She trailed off again, biting her lip. "Because you might thing I'm insane."

Sirius laughed. "Have you met my family love? I can spot insanity a mile away."

Hermione gave a weak grin. "Remember our first date? When I said there was a lot I couldn't tell you?" Sirius nodded and she took a deep breath. "I want to tell you everything, really I do. I'm exhausted from carrying this around on my own, but I have to ask you one thing first."

"Ask away, kitten," he said, forcing a charming grin.

"Are you any good at Occlumency?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. That was not what he expected her to ask.

He had been rather certain she would ask him to declare himself.

Not that he'd thought much about how he would do it, or when.

Just every hour, of every day, since before she'd left, and increasingly since receiving Cousin Dorea's five-page letter yesterday.

"_Comport yourself as a scion of the House of Black" indeed._

"Of course, dear. I'm a Black. I'm a bit out of practice, but my father started training me when I was small. I could keep most of the family out of my head by the time I started school."

Hermione nodded, unfazed by the depth of his family's paranoia.

"And what about Dumbledore?"

"What about him?"

"Can you keep him out of your head?"

Sirius's eyebrows drew together. He did have a secret, after all, a rather large one. He didn't think Dumbledore knew that he was an Animagus, or that he and the other Marauders sneaked out of the school every full moon to have fun with a werewolf.

He suspected that even the hands-off Headmaster would have something to say about that, if he knew.

"Don't know that he's ever tried to get in, but I reckon I could divert him if there was something I didn't want him to know. Why?"

She took a deep breath, and pulled back her ever- present long sleeves.

Carved into his girlfriend's arm was a word he wished could be permanently erased from the English-speaking world.

He growled at the sight of the slur marring her perfect skin.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, grabbing her arm to examine the scar closely.

"Your cousin, Bellatrix." Sirius raised astonished eyes to hers.

"But, that day in Hogsmeade was the first time you met." Hermione shook her head.

"No, that was the first time she met me. I've met her before, several times. One of those times she gave me that scar." She inhaled sharplydeeply. "And twice I've been responsible for her death."

Sirius's eyes widened. "When did Bella become an Inferi?"

Hermione swallowed. "She didn't. I killed her two days ago... and twenty years in the future."

Sirius let go of her hand, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

"Kitten, what are you on about?" Hermione took a deep breath, and started talking.

She talked for hours. Sirius doubted her sanity until she pulled out the photo albums. Until he saw the old, battered version of himself with his arm around her. Until he saw Harry, the little boy that would grow to look so like James, but with Lily's eyes.

"So, Muggle-born, daughter of dentists, deadly with a wand, doesn't like surprises... and a savior sent from the future to save us all." Hermione huffed and rose from the couch.

"You're not taking this seriously!"

"Of course I am, it's my-"

"Don't. You don't understand. Everyone was dead. _Everyone_. There was nothing left, Sirius. And Dumbledore had given me the way out, the Elysian Candle. All I had to do was make a wish and-"

"And you appeared in a flash of golden light, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He rose from the couch and placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her.

Hermione blushed.

"Sweet-talker."

"I only speak the truth, especially when it comes to you."

"So you believe me?" she asked.

"It's a lot to take in, but yes I do. I'm so glad you trusted me enough to tell me. May I ask what prompted this?"

Hermione averted her eyes. "Well, you said that you were serious about me – _don't laugh I swear to Merlin I will hit you – _and I just wanted you to know what you're getting into."

Sirius's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I couldn't have you be, you know, _invested_ without really knowing who I am. I've killed people, Sirius. I've tortured when it was called for. I've used Dark spells and spent hours poring over Dark books and-"

He silenced her with a kiss, if only to keep the unshed tears in her eyes from falling.

"You could be the next Voldemort and I wouldn't care. I'd still... feel like I do."

Hermione raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "The next Voldemort? Really?"

"Well, I might have a few things to say about that. But in essentials, as long as you were you, you'd be for me."

"Really?" she asked in a different tone altogether.

"Really."


	19. Gifts

A/N: My mom always says "sorry doesn't cut it", so instead of offering apologies for the delay in posting I'm just going to leave this here. I'm actively working on the ending, and while this might feel like filler I do promise it's all important.

* * *

"You seem distracted tonight, Lucius," Voldemort said from atop his throne. "Perhaps you dwell on your failures?"

Lucius rolled over on his side, attempting to stand though he had suffered three rounds of the Cruciatus Curse already. His shoes slipped on the black marble floor of Rookwood's home, sending him crashing to his knees. "My apologies, my Lord, for not finding her yet" Lucius said. "I am distracted by family matters."

Another wave of pain hit Lucius's already strained nerves, washing away his consciousness and leaving only the form of man behind. Around him the Death Eaters murmured to each other, possibly gloating over his perceived fall from grace.

Lucius had few blessings to count this Christmas, as his wheel of fortune had reached its nadir. One of his Muggle sisters was demanding more money than the other two, and they had caught wind and were upping their hush money prices as well. Lucretia Smith might look nothing like their father, Abraxas, but she had his calculating stare and killer instinct. Denying her was necessary - needed the funds to support the Dark Lord. Already his coffers were feeling the strain of the last few years.

The other families were feeling the pinch as well, but he could not be the weak link in the chain. They must continue to be united.

Then, of course, there was the conception issue. "Just a few more months, I'm not ready to lose another one," Narcissa had begged the night before. In his way, he did love his wife. She was beautiful and deadly, like an exotic cat, and would make a formidable Lady Malfoy in the years to come. He did not want to lose her and go through the trial of training a wife all over again. So, he waited for her permission.

Voldemort was the greatest source of Lucius's woe. All the Death Eaters had displeased the Dark Lord at Lesser Oakdown. The Sword itself was a powerful magical artifact, and even if Voldemort had not yet divulged his intentions for it Lucius could only imagine their importance. As for dear, departed Bella, she had been one of his most devoted followers, and in the months since her demise he had been taking his misplaced frustration out on the bodies of those remaining.

As one of the two who had faced that strange young witch, Potter, and Prewett, Lucius was questioned closely. Yaxley tended to babble about avenging angels, repeating as best he could the girl's threats to his person. The Dark Lord was most displeased that Yaxley had fled instead of taking down the girl himself. Lucius couldn't really blame him, however. Fleeing had been the only sensible thing to do. After all, they were not Gryffindors.

The only useful new piece of information either man had been able to relate was that Bellatrix recognized the girl and called her Sirius's plaything. Lucius had written to Orion and Walburga at the Dark Lord's behest, but they had yet to respond. Lucius remained certain that Orion was only biding his time, waiting for the opportune moment to turn that information to the greatest benefit for House Black.

Though he had not been seen publicly for some months, Orion's reputation proceeded him. An agile mind, a man who drives a hard bargain, slippery as one of Slyterin's snakes – Lucius found much to admire in his cousin-in-law.

Voldemort sighed and lowered his wand. The pain disbursed, and Lucius's mind warily made its way back to his body.

"Lucius, I offer you a chance to redeem yourself. The time for waiting politely for a response has passed. Visit Orion Black, as a concerned family member, and alert him to the _filth_ that threatens his bloodline. He has stayed away from us long enough – this will be the push we need to bring him into the fold. Do this, and you shall be forgiven."

Lucius closed his eyes and tilted his head forward, as close to a bow his recumbent body could manage. "Of course, my Lord."

"Too many illustrious families, pure families, are on their last legs. In but a few generations, there will be none left but half-blood whores and mudbloods. We must save those we can, before it is too late." There were murmurs of agreement and fear from the Death Eaters. Lucius attempted to add to their voices, but all he managed was a delicate groan.

Perhaps he could find a way to turn this to advantage for House Malfoy, guiding them through these dire straits.

* * *

"There's one left" Hermione asked, pointing to one of the last presents beneath the Evans' Christmas tree. Petunia made to grab it, but Lily beat her to it.

"It has my name on it!" Lily said, surprised. She had already opened her presents from her family (mostly Muggle clothes), the girls in her dorm (mostly wizarding clothes), and Hermione (a book of course).

"Who's it from?" Hermione asked.

The messy handwriting on the name tag tipped Lily off to the sender's identity, though he had forgone putting his name on it.

Petunia glared as Lily tore the red and gold paper off the small box.

"Who do you think?" Lily asked. Hermione grinned.

Inside the box, nestled in a piece of white fluff, was a delicate gold lily charm on a fine gold chain.

Lily lifted the necklace and dangled it from her fingers. The detail on the little flower was truly exquisite – there were drops of dew upon the sculpted leaves, and grooves carved into the lower flowers to give a shaded effect. Power thrummed along the chain, tickling Lily's fingertips.

Hermione chuckled from her seat on the floor next to her. It was the first time she had laughed since they arrived at the Evans' home at the beginning of the holidays.

"Rather obvious, don't you think?"

That was quintessential James, obvious and over the top. _This must have cost a fortune._

"Hey, there's a note," Hermione said, pointing at the inside of the wrapping paper.

_Sweetest Lily-flower,_

_I'm probably the last person you want to receive a Christmas present from, but please accept this humble gift. I know we left things poorly after Granger came back, but you are never far from my thoughts. This necklace will protect you and adorn you, though nothing could add to your incandescent beauty._

_With love from your ardent admirer,_

_James Charlus Potter_

"That's actually sweet," Hermione said, reading over Lily's shoulder.

"Did some freak get you a trinket?" Petunia snarled from the other corner of the room. Lily rolled her eyes but refrained from snapping back. She had long ago given up any hope of penetrating her sister's hatred.

"That's enough, Petunia," her mother admonished.

Lily smiled softly at the necklace, and what it meant. Was this the gift of a boy only interested in getting in her pants?

"Can you tell me what charms are on it?" she asked Hermione.

The slightly older witch waved a hand over the necklace and smiled. "Protection and good health are worked into the gold, which is a really friendly metal and should hold the charms for at least fifty years without needing refreshment. There's an extra shield charm on the, well, charm itself. It's a thoughtful gift."

"From a thoughtless boy," Lily muttered.

"A boy? Is it that Snape boy courting you?" her father asked, parental worry in his tone.

"No, it's from James Potter. I've told you about him before," Lily said, waving her father's concern aside.

Petunia huffed at the fact that two boys were chasing after her sister, but Lily ignored her again.

"I can't believe he gave me something so valuable. I thought he was just, you know-"

"Like they said Sirius was?" Hermione said with a knowing look. Lily glared at her.

"I had it on good authority that he was a bit of a man-slag."

"Well, even if he was, he's mine now."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yes, we know, you'll make adorable magical babies together. Babies who will prank people and be smart enough to not get caught."

"Give over!" Hermione laughed, throwing some wrapping paper at Lily. She dodged with a giggle.

"And no," Lily continued, "I never thought he was a, you know, per se, just thought he was-"

"Teasing the Muggle-born?"

"Severus always said I couldn't trust him."

"Yes," Hermione said with a snort. "Because _Severus _is a completely objective bystander in that assessment."

"It made sense at the time."

"But does it make sense now?"

Lily traced the petals of the golden flower. "I guess not."


	20. Christmas with the Blacks

A/N: MaryRoyale spent a lot of time inventing the complex Black family structure, and I must give her credit for designating Arcturus as the Patriarch of the family. Her stories are amazing – go read them!

* * *

Sirius was not looking forward to spending Christmas with his family, even though he and Reggie had been friendlier since Hermione's interference began. Well, friendlier in a distant way. There was still the matter of their House differences to overcome, and years of acrimony. At least now neither was actively attacking the other, giving each other civil nods in passing and across the Hall at breakfast.

It was enough, for now.

No, Sirius was worried about his parents. His mother, Walburga, was as crazy as they came. Even as a child he had sensed there was something wrong with her. It was in the flashing of her eyes and the venomous words that dripped from her pursed lips. His father, Orion had become more withdrawn as Sirius and Regulus grew older. The quiet, solitary man was a far cry from the regal figure of Sirius's early childhood. A man who once made public appearances, and attended the Wizengamot, to advance their family's position now sent proxies instead. On one thing only did he voice an opinion: his sons' duty to their house.

Neither parent was going to be thrilled at his choice of steady girlfriend, and Sirius was certain that Regulus had kept them informed of the blossoming relationship. It was the sort of thing his Slytherin little brother would do.

He was not surprised when they weren't there to greet the boys at King's Cross, nor that they did not respond to greetings when the boys had made their way to Grimmauld Place. Regulus avoided Sirius's eyes as they trudged up the stairs to their respective rooms – one proper Slytherin green, the other defiant Gryffindor red.

Sirius surveyed his room with distaste, solemnly swearing to not unpack his trunk. The pin-ups on the wall, while still exciting in a dirty kind of way, had nothing on his beautiful girlfriend. He suddenly wished he had a picture of her, and decided that he would go to Diagon Alley at some point to purchase one. It was as good an excuse to leave the house as any, now that he was likely not welcome at the Potters. Cousin Dorea had been most emphatic in her letter to him – he had better treat Hermione like the lady she was, or there would be consequences. His response had assured her that he was really serious about Hermione, and their correspondence had ended there.

But really, Dorea or his cousin Charlus were the least of his worries. James was still angry with him for taking Hermione's side over the last few months. They had barely spoken to one another since Halloween, and he missed his pseudo-brother dearly.

With a crack, Kreacher appeared in his room. The elf's face was twisted in habitual disdain, which only deepened when he laid eyes on Sirius.

"Dinner is ready, Young Master," Kreacher said, bowing low. Sirius glared at him and did not respond.

~0~

The days between the train ride and Christmas passed quickly and slowly. Sirius managed to avoid his parents, and Regulus, for the majority of it. Every time Regulus tried to corner his brother - to talk, to listen, to just _communicate_ \- Sirius managed to elude him. It was a big house.

"We are expecting company," his mother told him as he entered the dining room on Christmas Eve. Regulus nodded calmly, every inch the Slytherin, but inside he was quaking. His letters to Cousin Bellatrix had gone unanswered and unacknowledged. The guilt of writing them grew with each stroke of his quill. He planned to seek his father's advice on the matter, but that would have to wait for another evening apparently.

The doorbell howled and Kreacher went to answer it. A short moment later, Lucius Malfoy followed Kreacher into the dining room.

"Lucius," his mother simpered, a fake smile pasted across her face. "What a pleasure it is to welcome you into our home."

"Charmed, Lady Black," Lucius replied with a bow. "My Lord Black."

Orion barely acknowledged him, choosing instead to stare moodily into his brandy. Anyone else but a Slytherin would have missed the slight furrowing of Lucius's brows, but Regulus didn't. He wondered at his father's nonchalance, but it was such a frequent state of being that it warranted no comment in his opinion.

"You have my most sincere condolences, Lady Black, on the loss of your cousin."

"Oh! Dear Bella, a true example to us all of the power of the House of Black. Such a tragedy."

Lucius raised a single eyebrow at Lady Black, who grimaced but did not elaborate.

"What brings you to our humble home this evening, Lord Malfoy?" Regulus asked, skipping over the awkward silence. Lucius smiled thinly in reply.

"I was rather hoping to speak with your brother," Lucius replied. "Unlike some in his family, he has forgotten his proper place in the world."

A cacophony of hurried steps heralded Sirius's arrival in the dining room.

"You're late," was his mother's only greeting.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Sirius snarked.

"Watch your tongue when you speak to your mother, young Black," Lucius warned, drawing Sirius's attention. The younger wizard froze.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he asked, bravado straightening his spine. Behind Malfoy's back, Regulus tried to get Sirius's attention.

"Sirius!" his mother thundered.

"Mother! I'm simply surprised that a filthy Death Eater like-"

Walburga and Malfoy's curses hit Sirius simultaneously, knocking him backwards into the wall. He huffed in pain, dropping to the ground. Regulus looked on with wide eyes.

Orion stared into his brandy.

"It's a perfectly reasonable question," Sirius wheezed. He spat blood onto the ancient carpet and Walburga called for Kreacher.

Though long used to the grimness of his childhood home, Regulus shivered as the party entered the Small Dining Room. The walls were hung with dark red velvet that looked as old as it was – from the 19th century at least. Dark wood and flickering candles gave the room a forbidding air, and in no way tempted his already waning appetite.

Regulus and Sirius were across from each other at the long dinner table in the less formal dining room. The formal dining room seated twenty-four comfortably; this eight place-setting table was a breakfast nook by comparison. His father, Orion, sat at the head. There was a glazed look in his eyes and he ate little. Walburga was next her husband, eating with precise viciousness. The potatoes must have had Muggle relations to be speared so cruelly beneath her fork. Lucius rounded out their party, seated at the foot of the table.

"Pass the potatoes, please?" Regulus asked his brother. Sirius did so, earning a scoff from their mother.

"You could not Summon them? I am disappointed in you Regulus."

Regulus kept his eyes on his plate, scooping out the mashed potatoes into a large heap. "We are still forbidden from using magic away from Hogwarts, Mother. I meant no offense."

She scoffed again. "Pish posh. We are Blacks. Even if the Ministry could find this house, they would not approach. They still respect _pure_ blood, no matter how lax their policies have become. Do you not agree, Orion?"

Orion made a noncommittal noise and Walburga smiled thinly. Lucius toasted silently in agreement and returned to watching Sirius, which he had been doing for most of the meal.

"To which policies are you referring, mother?" Sirius asked.

"Oh, the ones that allow Muggle-borns wands and such."

Sirius rolled his eyes but did not rise to the bait. His father hummed again. Regulus ate his potatoes.

It was a typical Christmas Eve until it wasn't.

His parents were in the habit of questioning both sons closely about their schooling – not just academics, but also their social interactions – after the close of their Christmas dinner. This was more relevant for Regulus with his Slytherin politicking, but it was a chance for both parents to put down Sirius.

After dinner was finished, Regulus and Sirius followed their parents and guest up the stairs to Orion's study. While their parents seated themselves in the arm chairs before the fireplace, the boys took up their expected positions: shoulders back, feet apart, arms folded behind their backs. Walburga's wand was out and the cruel smile distorted her mouth. Orion's gaze was fixed on the flames, and he drank mechanically.

To Regulus's surprise, Lucius took up a post near the door. His cane-wand rested in his hand, primed for action if it would be needed. He smiled thinly at Regulus, who did his best to conceal his shiver. Judging by the amusement in Lucius's gaze, he was not successful.

"Regulus, how does your House?" Walburga asked.

Regulus described some paltry interactions with some well-connected sixth years and kept an eye on his brother out of the corner of his eye. Sirius's eyes said he was a million miles away, probably thinking about Granger.

Regulus did not know what to think about his brother's girlfriend. On the one hand, he had been told all his life that Mudbloods were worse than worthless. There was centuries of doctrine and precedent for this conclusion – how many had become Minister, or made great magical discoveries? None!

On the other, he knew what his eyes told him. Hermione Granger was a powerful witch, more powerful than him for certain. She cared for his brother, and believed that the brothers Black should lay aside their differences. It was something he had wanted for a long time, ever since he was Sorted, but for the first time there seemed to be a chance of it happening.

How could he hate the witch that gave him back his brother?

"And what of your letters to Bellatrix?" Walburga asked Regulus, jarring him from his wandering thoughts.

"What letters to Bellatrix?" Sirius asked sharply, turning to look at his brother.

"Hold your tongue! It is not yet your turn." Walburga glared at him. "Regulus, continue."

Regulus's eyes darted a glance at his brother, and he blushed. "Unfortunately, I have not heard back from Cousin Bellatrix since Halloween. I have sent only one letter since, and stopped when I did not hear back. I assume she had all the information she needed.

"And what information was she asking for?" Lucius asked. Regulus cleared his throat and shot a apologetic glance at Sirius.

"A witch appeared in the school at the Welcome Feast. Bellatrix wanted to know about her."

Sirius Black was a shoot first and ask questions kind of wizard. That's why what happened next was so predictable.

"You were writing to Bellatrix about Hermione?" he shouted, abandoning his interrogation pose and shoving his brother against the mantle of the fireplace. "After everything she's done for you? After the kindness she's shown us? You would do that? Why?"

"Sirius!" Walburga shouted.

Orion looked on vacantly.

"I-" Regulus couldn't get the breath to reply – Sirius had hit his windpipe.

"Why?"

"I didn't know her then," Regulus choked out. "I didn't know."

Sirius shoved him again before being violently thrown across the room. Regulus coughed and looked around at his parents.

Orion looked on vacantly.

Walburga brandished her wand.

"That's enough, Sirius Orion. You have much to answer for. _Crucio!_"

Sirius screamed.

"Your brother has been doing his duty to his family, keeping us informed of your little affair. Who is this _mudblood_? Who is this whore? _Crucio!"_

Sirius's body jerked unnaturally, his face contorted in pain. Tears streamed down his face, and he was sobbing. Lucius chuckled from the door. Regulus looked on helplessly between his brother and his father.

His vacantly staring, uninvolved father.

Unbidden, early memories of his father arose. Orion holding Walburga back from casting jinxes at Sirius shortly after his first year of Hogwarts. Orion taking his wife's wand when they were children and she got a bit too overzealous.

He wondered what had changed to keep his father from protecting them.

He shuffled over to his father, wincing at the new bruises that were surely blooming on his back.

"Father?" he whispered, barely audible over Walburga's shouting and Sirius's cries. "Father? Please, help us."

"Why was the Dark Lord so interested in her? _Answer me! Crucio!"_

Regulus waved a hand in front of his father's eyes, unsurprised when they did not follow the motion.

The realization hit him with all the subtlety of a troll. His father was being Imperiused! How had he not seen it before?

Unlike Sirius, Regulus was a good Black. He read his Dark Arts books, even the ones about Unforgiveables. He could fix this.

Regulus dug for his wand, which was in his pants pocket, and pointed it at his father.

"_Libertas Mens_!"

Orion took deep, gasping breath, and grabbed his son's wand. In a flash he was on his feet, advancing on Walburga. Lucius attempted to stop him, but was flung through the door and out the house with a flick of Orion's wand.

Orion neared his wife, wand raised.

"Avada Kedavra!" Walburga's shrill _Crucios_ were cut off by the whirring of invisible wings and a flash of green light.

Regulus hurried over to his brother, who was coughing up blood onto the dark carpet. He ignored the still body of his mad mother.

"That is the last time you harm this family, Walburga" Orion said quietly. "That is enough."


End file.
